"Meaning Pine? No! I'm not certain on that point. She is a rich widow and I'm a poor artist. In honor bound I can't allow her to lose her money by becoming my wife."
Miss Greeby stared at the fire. "I heard about that beastly will," she said, frowning. "Horribly unfair, I call it. Still, I believed that you loved the moon—well, then, Agnes, since you wish us to be plain—and would carry her off if you had the pluck."
"I have never been accused of not having pluck, Clara. But there's another thing to be considered, and that's honor."
"Oh, bosh!" cried Miss Greeby, with boyish vigor. "You love her and she loves you, so why not marry?"
"I'm not worth paying two million for, Clara."
"You are, if she loves you."
"She does and would marry me to-morrow if I would let her. The hesitation is on my part."
"More fool you. If I were in her position I'd soon overcome your scruples."
"I think not," said Lambert delicately.
"Oh, I think so," she retorted. "A woman always gets her own way."