Fate hadn't played the game fairly.

He was fifty-two, on the far side of the plateau, near sunset.
It wasn't a square deal.
Still he stood there on the sidewalk, like a rock in the middle of a turbulent stream, rejecting selfish thoughts.

Marry Kitty, and tell her the truth afterward.

He knew the blood of her--loyalest of the loyal.
He could if he chose play that sort of game--cheat her.

He could not withdraw his proposition.