He drew himself up and looked her squarely in the face.  There was nothing of the lover in his manner now.  An observer would have thought he was discussing with her some matter of business.  And to him it was a matter of business—­a matter to be discussed from every point of view and, above all, honestly.  There must be no misunderstanding from the start.  In this, he thought as she did.  Their opinions on this one point were in curious harmony.  He would not lie to her.  He would make her his wife, give her all the money, all the furbelows, all the luxuries her heart desired, but he would not pretend something that was not.  He would play cards upon the table.  Guardedly he said: 

“I feel always that I want to be near you, to be tender to you, to look after and guard you, shield you from all trouble and harm—­if that is love, then I love you.”

“And if I don’t consider that—­love?” she demanded, with a little nervous laugh.

The millionaire shook his head.

“Then I am afraid that I shall never love any one,” he said.  “You see, life with me has been one long fight.  As a boy, I fought for bread; as a youth, I fought for an education, as a man, I fought for success.  Everything I possess to-day I have wrested from the world, and while getting it I have been too busy for romance and love-making.  But I think this will prove what regard I have for you.  I have been attracted to many women, but you are the only woman I have ever asked to marry me.  I await your answer.  Will you be my wife?”

The girl looked up at him, gazing earnestly Into his eyes, as if trying to read there if he was the kind of a man to whom a girl might entrust her happiness.  Slowly she said: 

“You don’t even trouble to ask if I love you?”

“I don’t expect you to—­yet,” he answered, with a smile.

“And you would have me marry you, knowing that I do not love you?”

“But I think you like me—­a little.  Don’t you?”

“Do you wish for the truth?”

“Yes.”

“I do like you—­more than like you—­but I don’t love you—­yet.”

“Do you love any other man?”

“No.”

“Do you like any other man more than you like me?”

“No.”

Once more he bent forward.  Eagerly he said: 

“Then give me a chance—­marry me, and I’ll make you love me.”

“You’ll—­make me—­” she echoed.

“Yes,” he murmured ardently.  “I’ll make you!  And when once I have your love, I’ll hold it against the world!  Be my wife!  I’ll be a loyal and faithful husband.  You shan’t have a single care.  You shall have every luxury that money can buy.  Virginia—­will you marry me?”