“Make her my wife?” he repeated incredulously.

“Well, what do you say?” demanded Ryder, Sr.

The young man advanced towards Shirley, hands outstretched.

“Yes, yes, Shir—­Miss Green, will you?” Seeing that Shirley made no sign, he said:  “Not now, father; I will speak to her later.”

“No, no, to-night, at once!” insisted Ryder.  Addressing Shirley, he went on:  “Miss Green, my son is much affected by your disinterested appeal in his behalf.  He—­he—­you can save him from himself—­my son wishes you—­he asks you to become his wife!  Is it not so, Jefferson?”

“Yes, yes, my wife!” advancing again towards Shirley.

The girl shrank back in alarm.

“No, no, no, Mr. Ryder, I cannot, I cannot!” she cried.

“Why not?” demanded Ryder, Sr. appealingly.  “Ah, don’t—­don’t decide hastily—­”

Shirley, her face set and drawn and keen mental distress showing in every line of it, faced the two men, pale and determined.  The time had come to reveal the truth.  This masquerade could go on no longer.  It was not honourable either to her father or to herself.  Her self-respect demanded that she inform the financier of her true identity.

“I cannot marry your son with these lies upon my lips!” she cried.  “I cannot go on with this deception.  I told you you did not know who I was, who my people were.  My story about them, my name, everything about me is false, every word I have uttered is a lie, a fraud, a cheat!  I would not tell you now, but you trusted me and are willing to entrust your son’s future, your family honour in my keeping, and I can’t keep back the truth from you.  Mr. Ryder, I am the daughter of the man you hate.  I am the woman your son loves.  I am Shirley Rossmore!”

Ryder took his cigar from his lips and rose slowly to his feet.

“You?  You?” he stammered.

“Yes—­yes, I am the Rossmore woman!  Listen, Mr. Ryder.  Don’t turn away from me.  Go to Washington on behalf of my father, and I promise you I will never see your son again—­never, never!”

“Ah, Shirley!” cried Jefferson, “you don’t love me!”

“Yes, Jeff, I do; God knows I do!  But if I must break my own heart to save my father I will do it.”

“Would you sacrifice my happiness and your own?”

“No happiness can be built on lies, Jeff.  We must build on truth or our whole house will crumble and fall.  We have deceived your father, but he will forgive that, won’t you?” she said, appealing to Ryder, “and you will go to Washington, you will save my father’s honour, his life, you will—?”

They stood face to face—­this slim, delicate girl battling for her father’s life, arrayed against a cold-blooded, heartless, unscrupulous man, deaf to every impulse of human sympathy or pity.  Since this woman had deceived him, fooled him, he would deal with her as with everyone else who crossed his will.  She laid her hand on his arm, pleading with him.  Brutally, savagely, he thrust her aside.