"Are you crazy?" she cried, staring at him in alarm.
"See here, Anne," he said gently, "I am your friend. It will not make any difference to you if I tell you that I love you, that I've loved you for years. It's true nevertheless. I'm glad that I've at last had the courage to tell you. Still I suppose it's immaterial. I've come up here this afternoon to ask you to be my wife. I don't ask you to say that you love me. I don't want to put you in such a position as that. I know you don't love me, but—"
"Simmy! Oh, Simmy!" she cried out, a hysterical laugh in her throat that died suddenly in a strange, choking way. She was looking at him now with wide, comprehending eyes.
"I can't bear to see you married to that old man, Anne," he went on. "It is too awful for words. You are one of the most perfect of God's creations. You shall not be sacrificed on this damned altar of—I beg your pardon, I did not mean to begin by accusing any one of deliberately forcing you into—into—" He broke off and pulled fiercely at his little moustache.
"I see now," she said presently. "You are willing to sacrifice yourself in order that I may be spared. Is that it?"
"It isn't precisely a sacrifice. At least, it isn't quite the same sort of sacrifice that goes with your case as it now stands. In this instance, one of us at least is moved by a feeling of love;—in the other, there is no love at all. If you will take me, Anne, you will get a man who adores you for yourself. Isn't there something in that? I can give you everything that old man Thorpe can give, with love thrown in. I understand the situation. You are not marrying that old man because you love him. There's something back of it all that you can't tell me, and I shall not ask you to do so. But listen, dear; I'm decent, I'm honest, I'm young and I'm rich. I can give you everything that money will buy. Good Lord, I wish I could remember just what I've got to offer you in the way of—But, never mind now. If you'd like it, I'll have my secretary make out a complete list of—"
"So you think I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money,—is that it, Simmy dear?" she asked.
"I know it," said he promptly. "That is, you are marrying him because some one else—ahem! You can't expect me to believe that you love the old codger."
"No, I can't expect that of any one. Thank you, Simmy. I think I understand. You really want to—to save me. Isn't that so?"
"I do, Anne, God knows I do," he said fervently. "It's the most beastly, diabolical—"