"Dreams fade, little Make-Believe," he reminded her.
"I don't think my dreams will ever fade," she replied. "And you mustn't call me Little-Make-Believe any more—because it isn't true. Everything is real; I don't have to make-believe any longer."
"Fortunes are lost sometimes; it happens every day," he urged again. "Suppose this great fortune of yours was swept away—this fortune that came by lucky speculation—what then?"
"I can't believe that it will ever end; I can't believe that Fate would be so cruel as to send me back again to Arcadia Street—and to all the old unhappy life."
"You forget, Bessie; you were very happy there—playing that great game of life."
She shook her head. "I didn't understand—that was why I was happy," she said. "I struggled hard to make myself happy—fought hard to reach every little gleam of sunshine that came my way. Now I don't have to fight; thanks to father, all my happiness comes to me naturally."
They were nearing the house when she turned upon him with astounding news. "Oh—I forgot to tell you that we've got visitors."
"Visitors?" He stared at her as though not understanding.
She nodded brightly. "Yes; Aunt Julia Stocker and Uncle Ted. Father asked them down; father said—'What's the use of having a big house if you don't fill it?' Father's thinking of asking some other people—friends of his particularly. Of course there'll be lots of room for you, Mr. Byfield," she added; "I've seen about your room myself. Besides the housekeeper seemed to think that you'd like it; I suppose she knew what sort of a man you were."
Gilbert Byfield went on to the house in silence, listening as in a dream to the girl's animated chatter, as she pointed out this, that or the other familiar thing, and demanded his admiration. He began to understand that the difficulties he had created were greater than he had yet imagined; already he seemed to see an imaginary Daniel Meggison—grinning and triumphant—defying him to move at all, and sheltering himself in every extravagance behind this girl in the white frock, whose happiness Gilbert had purchased at so strange a price.