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152 followed the varying favor of old Luke. He could not know the secret plans she had made in heartlessness and mercenary calculation, the deceptions she had practiced, could not know the scorn she had for the first manhood and idealism that ventured into his letters. But this he could see and know—that instead of hurting this girl he had stirred a terrible temper; that instead of crying out to him in suffering she talked to him of her position, of what he could do for her if he would! Pride? Shame? Had he neither?

"I have pride, Marcia; I have shame. I have too much pride to lie to myself, to go through with this bargain which was to have meant much happiness. Now—I could never bring you happiness. It is better to see failure ahead than to walk blindly into it. By foresight—there is perhaps chance of another start. Shame? Yes, I have shame! The only greater shame that could come to me would come if I dodged this thing today—and went through with something infamous." He moved forward, not just steadily, and towered over her, looking into her face with a scrutiny which would not be evaded. One of his hands worked slowly as though he clutched for some saving condition. For a breathless moment they stood silent, giving one another stare for stare.

"I have changed and you have changed, Marcia. I—I never thought you had claws! I was prepared to break your heart today—and pay the penalty to my own conscience, all because of my mistake. I paid that penalty here in this room only a moment ago. I suffered as I never thought a man could suffer, because I was acting the cad, because I thought I was—hurting you. There's one thing I want to ask you, and I want you to be as