u seem determined to make an enemy of me instead
of a friend, my dear, and your reason ought to tell you how foolish that
is. Come, be sensible and listen to me. I've taken a violent fancy to
that pretty face of yours. We must be friends--excellent friends. That's
a good beginning, you know."

Margery glanced toward the door, the fright deepening in her eyes. He
had placed himself between her and the door, kicking it to with his
foot.

He saw that quick glance, and read it aright, and his brow darkened.

"Don't be a little fool!" he cried. "Don't anger me, girl. You had
better make a friend instead of an enemy of me."

"Your enmity or friendship is a matter of equal indifference to me now,"
gasped Margery, sobbing bitterly.

"You have slain my respect for you. I--I am sorry--sorry from the bottom
of my heart--that I realize you have fallen from such a noble height in
my estimation."

"That's all bosh and moonshine," hiccoughed Kendale; "respect and high
pedestal of honor and all that sort of thing. You're among the clouds;
get down to earth. I'm only a man--you mustn't take me for a little god.
Come, now, what in the name of reason is the use of making such a fuss
over this thing, and storming like an angry princess on the stage
because I tell you frankly that I've taken a notion to you. By George,
you ought to be mighty pleased to know that you've captured the fancy of
a man like me, with no end of money at my command. Do you realize that,
little one?"

The girl's terror was growing intense with each passing moment.

Her horror and dread of the man before her was a thousand-fold greater
at that moment than her admiration for Lester Armstrong had been in days
gone by. He seemed to her a different being in the same form--one
suddenly transformed from all that was manly and noble to a very fiend
incarnate.

An awful stillness had fallen over the girl--a full realization of the
meaning of his jocular remarks was just dawning upon her. She was
looking at him with the awful pallor of death on her lovely young face.

"Come, my pretty Margery," he cried, quite mistaking the reason that her
struggle to free herself from his clasping hand had so suddenly ceased;
"now you are falling into a more complaisant mood. I am glad of that.
Sit down and we'll talk. I must lock that door, or some blundering fool
will be stumbling in without taking the trouble to knock. But first give
me a kiss from those sweet lips, my dear, to