Earl Derr Biggers

“ Spencer Meyrick sighed.
"That's all we want to know. There will be no wedding, Harrowby."
"Wha—what!" His lordship faced about "Why, sir—the guests must be—down-stairs—"
"It is—unfortunate. But there will be no wedding." The old man turned to his daughter. "Cynthia," he asked, "have you nothing to say?"
"Yes." White, trembling, the girl faced his lordship. "It seems, Allan, that you have regarded our marriage as a business proposition. You have gambled on the stability of the market Well, you win. I have changed my mind. ”

“ You have put your employer's money above my happiness. Always. Really, you looked rather cheap to-day, with your sanctimonious advice that I marry Harrowby. Aren't you beginning to realize your own position—the silly childish figure you cut?"
"Then you—"
"Last night when you came staggering across the lawn to me with this foolish gown in your arms—I told you I hated you. Do you imagine I hate you any less now. Well, I don't." Her voice became tearful. "I hate you! I hate you!" ”

“ You're going to tear up that policy now—and go to work for me."
"I for one am sorry," cried Miss Meyrick, her flashing eyes on Minot. "I wanted you to win, Allan. I wanted you to win."
"Why?" Minot asked innocently.
"You ought to know," she answered, and turned away.
Lord Harrowby moved toward the door.
"We're not hard losers," he said blankly. "But—everything's gone—it's a bit of a smash-up. Good-by, Cynthia."
"Good-by, Allan—and good luck."
"Thanks." And Harrowby went out with his brother.
Minot stood for a time, not daring to move. Cynthia Meyrick was at the window ”