"
"Let's be above-board, Frona. St. Vincent's concerned?"
She nodded.
"And I can put my hand right on the spot. First place," he looked to
the side and saw Lucile stealing an anxious glance to him,--"first
place, only the other day she gave you a song about St. Vincent.
Second place, and therefore, you think her heart's not in this present
proposition; that she doesn't care a rap for me; in short, that she's
marrying me for reinstatement and spoils. Isn't that it?"
"And isn't it enough? Oh, I am disappointed, Colonel Trethaway,
grievously, in her, in you, in myself."
"Don't be a fool! I like you too well to see you make yourself one.
The play's been too quick, that is all. Your eye lost it. Listen.
We've kept it quiet, but she's in with the elect on French Hill. Her
claim's prospected the richest of the outfit. Present indication half
a million at least. In her own name, no strings attached. Couldn't
she take that and go anywhere in the world and reinstate herself? And
for that matter, you might presume that I am marrying her for spoils.
Frona, she cares for me, and in your ear, she's too good for me. My
hope is that the future will make up. But never mind that--haven't got
the time now.
"You consider her affection sudden, eh? Let me tell you we've been
growing into each other from the time I came into the country, and with
our eyes open.
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