"Is it—to change her mind?"
She looked timidly into his eyes.
"It—is," she whispered faintly.
The most miserably happy man in history, he gasped.
"Cynthia! It's too late—you're to be married to-morrow. Do you mean—you'd call it all off now—at the last minute?"
She nodded her head, her eyes on the ground.
"My God!" he moaned, and turned away.
"It would be all wrong—to marry Harrowby," she said faintly. "Because I've come to—I—oh, Dick, can't you see?"
"See! Of course I see!" He clenched his fists. "Cynthia, my dearest——"
Below him stretched six stories of open space. In his agony he thought of leaping over the rail—of letting that be his answer. But no—it would disarrange things so—it might even postpone the wedding!