The Bakers are the
top of the heap in New York. Very exclusive. I've been
intimate there for years. No, Miss Dunbar, I may have
begun as a mule-driver on a canal, but I am choice in my
society. My wife will not find a man or woman in my
circle who is half-cut."
Lucy drew a long breath. To live all day and every day
with this man!
And yet--she was so tired! There was a good deal of
money to manage, and he could do that. He would like a
gay, hospitable house, and so would she, and they would
be kind to the poor--and he was an Episcopalian, too.
There would be no hitch there. Lucy was a zealous High
Churchwoman.
Why should she not do it? The man was as good as gold at
heart. Jean called him a cad, but the caddishness was
only skin deep.
Mr. Perry watched her, reading her thoughts more keenly
than she guessed.
"One thing I will say in justice to myself," he said.
"You are a rich woman. If you marry me, YOU will know,
if nobody else does, that I am no fortune-hunter. I
shall always be independent of my wife. Every dollar she
owns shall be settled on her before I go with her to the
altar."
"Oh, I'm not thinking of the money," said Lucy
impatiently.
"Then you are thinking of me!" He leaned over her. She
felt as if she had been suddenly dragged too close to
a big unpleasant fire. "I know you don't love me," he
panted, "you cold little angel, you! But you do like me?
Eh? just a little bit, Lucy? Marry me.
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