"It is—unfortunate. But there will be no wedding." The old man turned to his daughter. "Cynthia," he asked, "have you nothing to say?"
"Yes." White, trembling, the girl faced his lordship. "It seems, Allan, that you have regarded our marriage as a business proposition. You have gambled on the stability of the market Well, you win. I have changed my mind. This is final. I shall not change it again."
"Cynthia!" And any who had considered Lord Harrowby unfeeling must have been surprised at the anguish in his voice. "I have loved you—I love you now. I adore you. What can I say in explanation—of this. We gamble, all of us—it is a passion bred in the family. That is why I took out this absurd policy. My dearest—it doesn't mean that there was no love on my side. There is—there always will be, whatever happens. Can't you understand—"
The girl laid her hand on his arm, and drew him away to the window.
"It's no use, Allan," she said, for his ears alone. "Perhaps I could have forgiven—but somehow—I don't care—as I thought I did. It
