“Gretzinger wasn’t in my mind.”

“You said ’too late’,” she pursued.  “Naturally I supposed your reference to be of them.”

The gravity of his face deepened.

“I was thinking of myself,” said he, turning his eyes upon her.  “If we’re not married soon, very soon, it will be too late.  I mean that it would be a mockery.  For me, at any rate.  One may wish to go one way, and be swept another, especially when the mooring line is slack.”  His breast rose and fell at a quick, agitated breath.  “But promise me that you’ll not speak of this to Ruth.”

“The very thing to bring her round, perhaps.”

“More likely to fill her with despair.”

This was something Imogene could not grasp.  It was so inexplicable, so extravagant, so perverse, that her cheeks grew hot.

“I can’t follow you at all,” she cried, indignantly.  “Ruth alarmed, jealous, in doubt—­yes, I can credit her with any one of those feelings.  But despair!  She lays her plans too far ahead to be led into despair.”

“Even if she knew I had ceased to love her?  When she understood our marriage would be a hollow ceremony?”

“Would it be that if you succeed with your project?”

Bryant’s eyes blazed suddenly.

“Great God, you talk as if she were to marry the canal!” he exclaimed.  He glowered for a time.  “I see now what you mean.  You believe she would marry me if I win out with the ditch.  Being practical, she would accept money as a substitute for love.  That reminds me:  she herself once declared that if circumstances necessitated she could take a rich man for his riches.”  Bryant uttered a harsh laugh.  “My Lord, I was frightened lest in a fit of anguish at losing my love she should go to the devil!” Again he yielded to an outburst of laughter that made Imogene shudder.  “I fancied that at finding herself out of money, unable to work, disinclined to work, unloved, miserable, she would recklessly hurl herself into perdition.  And I was going to save her from that, marry her at once, sacrifice myself!  Like an egotistical fool!  When all the while there was never the slightest danger or need, when all the while she held the string, not I. And love isn’t a consideration whatever.  And she will marry me when I’ve completed the project.  And complete it I must, of course.  Not a way out, not a single loop-hole.  Oh, my Lord, my Lord, Imogene, did you ever know of anything so devilishly laughable!” And his bitter, sardonic merriment broke forth anew.

The girl was appalled.  All she could do was to gasp, “Oh, Lee, Lee!  Don’t laugh like that, don’t think of it like that.  You make it out worse than it is.”

He stopped short.  By his look he might have detested her.

“I state it as it is,” he said.  “Wherein is the actual situation better?”

“You could break your engagement; certainly she has given you sufficient cause.”

“Yes, break with her, as might you.  Why don’t you?”