Billy was on her feet now, holding up two protesting hands, palms outward.
"Miss Neilson, you don't mean--that you haven't known--all this time--that it was you ?" The man, now, was on his feet, his eyes hurt and unbelieving, looking into hers.
Billy paled.

She began slowly to back away.

Her eyes, still fixed on his, carried the shrinking terror of one who sees a horrid vision.
"But you know--you _must_ know that I am not yours to win!" she reproached him sharply.

"I'm to be Bertram Henshaw's--_wife_." From Billy's shocked young lips the word dropped with a ringing force that was at once accusatory and prohibitive.

It was as if, by the mere utterance of the word, wife, she had drawn a sacred circle about her and placed herself in sanctuary.
From the blazing accusation in her eyes Arkwright fell back.
"Wife! You are to be Bertram Henshaw's wife!" he exclaimed.