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 Don’t you see?… And then I told everybody—so—so it would be irrevocable.”

“But why? Why? If you love him and he loves you—Lydia Canfield, you must be crazy!”

“I think I shall go crazy…. Oh, don’t you understand? Won’t anybody understand? Think, Myrtle, think! Think of what Angus was. Think of his dreadful father!… How could I marry a man—like that?”

“Do you mean to sit there and tell me, Lydia Canfield, that you wouldn’t marry Angus Burke even when you knew you loved him and he loved you—just because you’re ashamed of his father and his mother? Just because you’re too absurdly proud to forget the—the misfortune that happened to him when he was a little boy—when he was too young to help himself?… He’s worth a dozen Malcolm Cranes. Family! I’m ashamed of you—I—I almost despise you. It’s nothing but vanity, silly, criminal vanity…. Lydia, if I thought Angus loved me I’d be proud—proud. I never knew anybody like him. He’s good; he’s strong…. See what he’s made of himself…. And you’re ashamed to marry him—you and your silly ancestors! What did they amount to?… Just name a single one of them who was as good a man as Angus Burke!”

“Myrtle Cuyler—” Lydia stopped, choking. Something like her old facility at flying into a