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"Why, Mr. Smith, w-what—" Only the crisp shutting of the door answered her. With a beseeching look and a despairing gesture Mr. Smith had gone.

Once again Miss Maggie stood looking after Mr. Smith with dismayed eyes. Then, turning to sit down, she came face to face with her own image in the mirror.

"Well, now you've done it, Maggie Duff," she whispered wrathfully to the reflection in the glass. "And you've broken his heart! He was—was going to say something—I know he was. And you? You've talked money, money, MONEY to him for an hour. You said you LOVED money; and you told what you'd do—if you had twenty millions of dollars. And you know—you KNOW he's as poor as Job's turkey, and that just now he's more than ever plagued over—money! And yet you—Twenty millions of dollars! As if that counted against—"

With a little sobbing cry Miss Maggie covered her face with her hands and sat down, helplessly, angrily.

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Miss Maggie was still sitting in the big chair with her face in her hands when the door opened and Mr. Smith came in. He was very white.

Miss Maggie, dropping her hands and starting up at his entrance, caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror in front of her. With a furtive, angry dab of her fingers at her wet eyes, she fell to rearranging the vases and photographs on the mantel.

"Oh, back again, Mr. Smith?" she greeted him, with studied unconcern.

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Mr. Smith shut the door and advanced determinedly.

"Miss Maggie, I've got to face this thing out, of course. Even if I had—made a botch of things at the very start, it didn't help any to—to run away, as I did. And I was a coward to do it. It was only because I—I—But never mind that. I'm coming now straight to the point. Miss Maggie, will you—marry me?"

The photograph in Miss Maggie's hand fell face down on the shelf. Miss Maggie's fingers caught the edge of the mantel in a convulsive grip. A swift glance in the mirror before her disclosed Mr. Smith's face just over her shoulder, earnest, pleading, and still very white. She dropped her gaze, and turned half away. She did not want to meet Mr. Smith's eyes just then. She tried to speak, but only a half-choking little breath came.

Then Mr. Smith spoke again.

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"Miss Maggie, please don't say no—yet. Let me—explain—about how I came here, and all that. But first, before I do that, let me tell you how—how I love you—how I have loved you all these long months. I THINK I loved you from the first time I saw you. Whatever comes, I want you to know that. And if you could care for me a little—just a little, I'm sure I could make it more—in time, so you would marry me. And we would be so happy! Don't you believe I'd try to make you happy—dear?"

"Yes, oh, yes," murmured Miss Maggie, still with her head turned away.

"Good! Then all you've got to say is that you'll let me try. And we will be happy, dear! Why, until I came here to this little house, I didn't know what living, real living, was. And I HAVE been, just as you said, a selfish old thing."

Miss Maggie, with a start of surprise, faced the image in the mirror; but Mr. Smith was looking at her, not at her reflection, so she did not meet his ayes.

"Why, I never—" she stammered.

"Yes, you did, a minute ago. Don't you remember? Oh, of course you didn't realize—everything, and perhaps you wouldn't have said it if you'd known. But you said it—and you meant it, and I'm glad you said it. And, dear little woman, don't you see? That's only another reason why you should say yes. You can show me how not to be selfish."

"But, Mr. Smith, I—I-" stammered Miss Maggie, still with puzzled eyes.

"Yes, you can. You can show me how to make life really worth while, for me, and for—for lots of others And NOW I have some one to care for. And, oh, little woman, I—I care so much, it can't be that you—you don't care—any!"