"
As Victoria said these things, she remembered M'Barka, and the prophecy
of the sand; a sudden decision to be made in an instant, which would
change her whole life.
"I'll gladly give Miss Lorenzi more than half my money," said Stephen.
"I should be happy to think she had it. But even if you begged me to
marry her, Victoria, I would not now. It's gone beyond that. Her ways
and mine must be separate forever."
Margot's face grew eager, and her eyes flamed.
"What I want and insist on," she said, "is that I must have my rights.
After all I've hoped for and expected, I _won't_ be thrown over, and go
back to the old, dull life of turning and twisting every shilling. If
you'll settle thirty thousand pounds on me, you are free, so far as I
care. I wouldn't marry a man who hated me, when there's one who adores
me as if I were a saint--and I like him better than ever I did you--a
lot better. I realize that more than I did before."
The suggestion of Margot Lorenzi as a saint might have made a looker-on
smile, but Victoria and Stephen passed it by, scarcely hearing.
"If I give you thirty thousand pounds, it will leave me a poor man," he
said.
"Oh, _do_ give her the money and be a poor man," Victoria implored. "I
shall be so happy if we are poor--a thousand times happier than she
could be with millions."
Stephen caught the hand that half unconsciously the girl held out to
him, and pressed it hard.
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