“How? asked Shirley calmly.

“Ah, that’s just it—­how?” he replied.  “Can’t you think—­you’re a woman—­you have youth, beauty—­brains.”  He stopped and eyed her closely until she reddened from the embarrassing scrutiny.  Then he blurted out:  “By George! marry him yourself—­force him to let go of this other woman!  Why not?  Come, what do you say?”

This unexpected suggestion came upon Shirley with all the force of a violent shock.  She immediately saw the falseness of her position.  This man was asking for her hand for his son under the impression that she was another woman.  It would be dishonorable of her to keep up the deception any longer.  She passed her hand over her face to conceal her confusion.

“You—­you must give me time to think,” she stammered.  “Suppose I don’t love your son—­I should want something—­something to compensate.”

“Something to compensate?” echoed Ryder surprised and a little disconcerted.  “Why, the boy will inherit millions—­I don’t know how many.”

“No—­no, not money,” rejoined Shirley; “money only compensates those who love money.  It’s something else—­a man’s honour—­a man’s life!  It means nothing to you.”

He gazed at her, not understanding.  Full of his own project, he had mind for nothing else.  Ignoring therefore the question of compensation, whatever she might mean by that, he continued: 

“You can win him if you make up your mind to.  A woman with your resources can blind him to any other woman.”

“But if—­he loves Judge Rossmore’s daughter?” objected Shirley.

“It’s for you to make him forget her—­and you can,” replied the financier confidently.  “My desire is to separate him from this Rossmore woman at any cost.  You must help me.  “His sternness relaxed somewhat and his eyes rested on her kindly.  “Do you know, I should be glad to think you won’t have to leave us.  Mrs. Ryder has taken a fancy to you, and I myself shall miss you when you go.”

“You ask me to be your son’s wife and you know nothing of my family,” said Shirley.

“I know you—­that is sufficient,” he replied.

“No—­no you don’t,” returned Shirley, “nor do you know your son.  He has more constancy—­more strength of character than you think—­ and far more principle than you have.”

“So much the greater the victory for you,” he answered good humouredly.

“Ah,” she said reproachfully, “you do not love your son.”

“I do love him,” replied Ryder warmly.  “It’s because I love him that I’m such a fool in this matter.  Don’t you see that if he marries this girl it would separate us, and I should lose him.  I don’t want to lose him.  If I welcomed her to my house it would make me the laughing-stock of all my friends and business associates.  Come, will you join forces with me?”

Shirley shook her head and was about to reply when the telephone bell rang.  Ryder took up the receiver and spoke to the butler downstairs: