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“Why should I tell you anything? What business is it of yours?”

He sat down suddenly, and putting his elbows on the table, buried his face in his hands.

“I’m in hell,” he said.

“Then it’s a hell of your own making.”

He made no reply, and after a moment Ann sat down at the other side of the table opposite to him.

“Rodney,” she said quietly, “we’d better have this out, once and for all. You’ve said that you love me, but you don’t love me well enough to want me as your wife. Well, you’ve been honest at least, and I’ll try to be honest with you—to tell you everything that is in my heart.”

“Tell me that what they say isn’t true.”

“What do they say?”

“That Mrs. Holmes is bringing a case for divorce against the boss and... you.”

“That is quite true.”

He looked up at her for one moment with wild and haggard eyes. Then his face dropped mto his hands again.

“So it’s too late now, anyhow,” he muttered.

“Too late for what?”

He was silent and she went on:

“Do you mean it’s too late for you to ask me to marry you?” Again he did not answer, and she continued steadily: “Why should you think that I would accept your proposal? What have you to offer me? Is it a very exalted position to be the wife of a drover?”

“I’m not going to be a drover always. If I made