"In other words, Doris," he said quickly, "frankly and honestly, since we are going to be honest now that we have come to the parting of the ways—your father let you understand so that you might know how critical the situation was and take your measures accordingly. That's it—isn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"I hope at least that you haven't concealed anything from Boskirk," he said quietly.
"Why should I tell him?"—she started to burst out, and caught her breath, trapped.
"So you are already to be congratulated?" he said, looking at her with a smile.
"That isn't true," she said hastily. "You know and I know that Mr. Boskirk wants to marry me, that I can have him any day—"
"Don't," he said gravely. "You know there is an understanding—"
"Oh, an understanding—" she began.
"True," he interrupted. "At this moment, Doris, you know that Boskirk has proposed and you have accepted him. Why deny it? It is quite plain. You made up your mind that you would marry him the moment you learned you might be a pauper. Come, be honest—be square."
She went away from him and stood by the fireplace, her back to him.