“You’re making it so hard for me!” she cried pathetically. “I’ve told you already that I cannot marry you.”
“But why! Why!” he persisted.
“Because I haven’t myself––I’ve nothing to give.”
“But how can you love him after he has––”
“Told me he does not love me?” she said, taking the words from him. “Then how can you love me when I have said the same thing to you?”
He struggled desperately, in deep water.
“It’s different, Marion. You don’t hate me––I think. You say you like me. That’s enough now––to start with. It’s all I ask. I’ll try to make you happy, and I’ll wait for love. You shall have all the things in the world you want. I’m making scads of money. Everything I touch just rolls up into bank notes. I want you to come and spend all that money for me. Remember, Marion, your father wished it. If he were here now––”
“Yes!” she put in with sudden fire. “If he were here now do you know what he would say to me?”
He felt that he had blundered, and made no reply.
“He would say to me––Oh, I can hear him now! He would say: ‘Follow your heart, daughter. Love’s the only thing in the world that really counts.’”