Then she stood up, with decision: "There is no use in our quarrelling, Louis--until the time comes when some outsider forces us into an unhappy misunderstanding.

Kiss me good-bye, dear." She lifted her face; he kissed her; and her hand closed impulsively on his arm: "Louis! Louis! I love you.

I am so proud of you--I--you know I love you, don't you ?" "Yes--I think so." "You _know_ I am devoted to your happiness!--your _real_ happiness--which those blinded eyes in that obstinate head of yours refuse to see.

Believe me--believe me, dear, that your _real_ happiness is not in this pretty, strange girl's keeping.

No, no, no! You are wrong, Louis--terribly and hopelessly wrong! Because happiness for you lies in the keeping of another woman--a woman of your own world, dear--of your own kind--a gently-bred, lovable, generous girl whom you, deep in your heart and soul, love, unknowingly--have always loved!" He shook his head, slowly, looking down into his sister's eyes.
She said, almost frightened: "You--you won't do it--suddenly--without letting us know--will you, Louis ?" "What ?" "Marry this girl!" "No," he said, "it is not likely." "But you--you mean to marry her ?" "I want to....