"Yes you do; and more than that, you know what it is to play fast and loose with two at the same time."
"You cannot think what you are saying."
"Don't I?" was the reply. "Mark you, he shall never have you. Not content with robbing us of the reward of our labour, these capitalists would steal our very flesh and blood."
"You are talking riddles."
"Then this is the solution of them. You shall never be the wife of that man, Gwyneth," he continued, with a faltering voice. "We have known each other since we were children. Are you. going to cast me off for this squatter's son? Consider well. I have a lot of good—or a lot of bad—in me."
The girl was moved. She had never given her affections to this strange man. She had despised him. Had she taken enough trouble to convince him that his suit was hopeless? Perhaps not. In truth she had never seriously regarded it.
Willie had wandered away, plucking flowers. The young man put down his gun, took the girl's hand, and said hurriedly—
"Gwyneth, dear Gwyneth, is it to be heaven or hell in my heart? Do you choose poverty or wealth? A plain man who will love you, or a gilded creature who will play with you, and then cast you aside?"
Gwyneth had had time to recover herself. Withdrawing her hand she replied—
"Richard Malduke, you must relinquish these wild fancies. You force me to say that I do not love you; that I never did, that I never can. But let us be friends, Dick, and not make fools of ourselves."
"Then you love that man?"
