"I—why, you mustn't talk like that; you're not yourself, Lilas." He ran his eyes over the luxurious little room; he wiped his face with a shaky hand, feeling that it was he who had lost his senses. "The wine is talking. When I asked you to marry me I never dreamed—"
"You never dreamed I'd disobey you, eh? Well, I didn't intend to so early." She laughed again. "Now I suppose you'll drop me. What?"
"There's nothing else to do, if this—But I can't imagine what possessed you."
She eyed him silently with an expression he could not fathom, then asked, "Tell me, do you really care for me?"
Jarvis Hammon was a virile, headstrong man; his world had come suddenly, inexplicably to an end. His voice was hoarse, as he answered:
"Do you think I'd have made a fool of myself if I hadn't? Do you think
I'd have ruined myself?"
"Have you ruined yourself?" she interrupted, quickly.
"Not quite, perhaps; but what I've lost, what I've sacrificed, would have ruined most men. My home is gone, and my family—as you know—yes, and a good many other things you don't know about. Financially I'm not done for—"
"That's too bad."
"Eh?"