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“It’s not enough to make a certainty of any marriage between us being a success. There are plenty of differences between us still.”

“Couldn’t we bridge those differences? Make allowances for one another?”

“I don’t know whether we could or not.” He rose. “Anyhow, what’s the use of discussing it? We aren’t going to get married.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because there can’t be any question of it any more.”

“Why? A sudden fear shook her. “Have you—bound yourself to some one else? Stephanie Hemingway?”

“A child! Why should I want her? She’s been friendly—a good little pal, that’s all.”

“That other woman—at Omoana?”

“There is no other woman—now. Oh, I remember telling you there were plenty of women in the world. There aren’t—for me. There never have been since that day—only you———”

“And yet you won’t marry me?”

“I can't,” he repeated stubbornly.

“You still won’t sacrifice your freedom?”

“Oh, to hell with my freedom!” he returned fiercely. “I’m not free any longer. You’ve bound me fast enough. It isn’t that.”

“What is it, then?”

“I’ve nothing to offer you—no home to give you. You told me once I’d gamble my money away. I’ve done it. I thought today I’d make my fortune—come to you with enough to buy a place in the country. I’ve lost everything.”