"I am quite in the dark. I understand you have come to break off the engagement--that is not perhaps the shock you believe it--but I am curious to know what are your reasons."

Her tears stopped abruptly. She faced his glance.

"I said you would hate me," she said slowly.

"No, I do not think so."

"Yes, yes, you will hate me," she said breathlessly, "and you should.

Oh, I'm not excusing myself. I hate myself. I despise myself. If you hated me you would only be right. Yes, you have every right."

"Are you engaged to any one else, Doris?" he said with a smile.

She sprang up indignantly.

"Oh, how could you say such a thing! Bojo!"

"If I have offended you I beg your pardon."

"You beg my pardon," she said, her lip trembling. She came and knelt at his side. "Bojo, look at me. You believe that I love you, don't you?--that you are the only thing, the only person in my life that I have ever loved, and that if I give you up it is because I must, because I can't help it, because--because I know myself so well that I know I haven't the strength to do what other women do--to be--poor! There you have it!"

"But you knew all this six months ago," he said, scenting some mystery.

"Something else must have happened--what?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

He waited a moment.

"Well?"

She rose, listened a moment and glanced carefully about the room.

Afterward he remembered this glance.

"You must give me your word of honor not to mention--not to breathe one word I say to you," she said in a lower voice.

"That is hardly necessary," he said quickly, on his dignity.

"No, no. This is not my secret. Your word of honor. I must have your word of honor."

"Very well," he said, carried away by his curiosity.

"Before the end of the year, in a few months even, Dad may lose every cent he has!"

"He told you?" he said incredulously. "Or is this some trick of your mother's?"

"No, no, it is no trick. Dad told us himself."

"Us? Whom?"

"Mother and me!"

"And Patsie?"

"No, Patsie is away."

"When did he tell you?"

"Just a week ago."

"But why?-- That doesn't seem like him to tell you," said Bojo, frowning. "Perhaps you've exaggerated."

"No, no. He is in a bad way. He is caught," she said hurriedly. "Times have been hard, the market has gone down steadily--all summer--way, way down--and Dad is carrying enormous blocks of stock--must carry them or admit defeat--and you know Dad! I don't know exactly what's wrong. He didn't go into the matter; but he has enemies, tremendous enemies that are trying to put him out, and it's a question of credit. Oh, if you'd seen his face when he told us, you'd know just how serious it was!"

"Just what did he say?"

"He told us--I can't remember the words--that if times continued as they had been, he stood a chance of losing every cent he had, that he was in a fight for existence and that he couldn't tell how it would come out."

She hesitated a moment and added: "He thought the situation so critical that we should know of it."

This last and the halting before saying it, suddenly gave him the light he had been seeking during all this interview.

"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.

"That is true--all of it," she said. A shudder pa.s.sed over her. "I hate him!"

"What!" he cried, advancing toward her in amazement. "You hate him and yet you will marry him?"

"Yes. Because I can't bear to give up anything--because I am a weak, selfish woman."