s calm, absolutely satisfied as to the result,
and curiously elated beneath a sturdy, shock-proof exterior. It was as
if he breathed some fragrant perfume, soft, grateful, entrancing.

A few minutes after eight he saw Jennie coming along. The flare of
the gas-lamp was not strong, but it gave sufficient light for his eyes
to make her out. A wave of sympathy passed over him, for there was a
great appeal in her personality. He stepped out as she neared the
corner and confronted her. "Come," he said, "and get in this carriage
with me. I'll take you home."

"No," she replied. "I don't think I ought to."

"Come with me. I'll take you home. It's a better way to talk."

Once more that sense of dominance on his part, that power of
compulsion. She yielded, feeling all the time that she should not; he
called out to the cabman, "Anywhere for a little while." When she was
seated beside him he began at once.

"Listen to me, Jennie, I want you. Tell me something about
yourself."

"I have to talk to you," she replied, trying to stick to her
original line of defense.

"About what?" he inquired, seeking to fathom her expression in the
half light.

"I can't go on this way," she murmured nervously. "I can't act this
way. You don't know how it all is. I shouldn't have done what I did
this morning. I mustn't see you any more. Really I mustn't."

"You didn't do what you did this morning," he remarked,
paradoxically, seizing on that one particular expression. "I did that.
And as for seeing me any more, I'm going to see you." He seized her
hand. "You don't know me, but I like you. I'm crazy about you, that's
all. You belong to me. Now listen. I'm going to have you. Are you
going to come to me?"

"No, no, no!" she replied in an agonized voice, "I can't do
anything like that, Mr. Kane. Please listen to me. It can't be. You
don't know. Oh, you don't know. I can't do what you want. I don't want
to. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. You don't know how things are.
But I don't want to do anything wrong. I mustn't. I can't. I won't.
Oh, no! no!! no!!! Please let me go home."

He listened to this troubled, feverish outburst with sympathy, with
even a little pity.

"What do you mean by you can't?" he asked, curiously.

"Oh, I can't tell you," she replied. "Please don't ask me. You
oughtn't to know. But I mustn't see you any more. It won't do any
good."

"But you like me," he retorted.

"Oh yes, yes, I do. I can't help that. But you mu