"She is not your sister. She has not one drop of Gwynne blood in her veins."
He gave a short, bitter laugh. "But who is going to tell her that, may I ask, Rachel Carter?"
She turned away, took two or three turns up and down the room, her head bent, a heavy frown between her eyes, and then sank wearily into a chair.
"I will put it this way, Kenneth," she said. "Would you ask her to be your wife if the time should ever come when she knows the truth?"
He hesitated a long time. "Will you be kind enough to tell me what your object is in asking me these questions?"
"I want to know whether you are truly in love with her," she replied steadily.
"And if I say that I could not ask her to marry me, would that prove anything to you?"
"Yes. It would prove two things. It would prove that you do not love her with all your heart and soul, and it would prove that you are the same kind of man that your father was before you."
He started. It was the second reason that caused him to look at her curiously. "What do you mean?"
"When you have answered my question, I will answer yours, Kenneth."