love with her, but it takes away a little of
the compliment when the man is already married."

"That's nothing," he said eagerly. "I can divorce her by the laws of my
country. Maisie, she hates me and I hate her."

"In those circumstances," she smiled, "I wonder you wait until you fall
in love again before you get divorced. No, Mr. Silva, that story doesn't
convince me. If you were single or divorced, or if you were ever so
eligible, I would not marry you."

"Why not?" he demanded truculently. "I've got money."

"So have I," she said, "of a sort."

"My money's as clean as yours, if it is Solomon White's money."

She nodded.

"I'm well aware of that, too," she said. "It is Gang money, isn't
it--loot money. I don't see what good I shall get out of exchanging mine
for yours, anyway. It is just as dirty. The money doesn't come into it
at all, Mr. Silva, it is just liking people well enough--for marriage.
And I don't like you that way."

"You don't like me at all," he growled.

"You're very nearly right," she smiled.

"You're a fool, you're a fool!" he stormed, "you don't know what's
coming to you. You don't know."

"Perhaps I do," she said. "Perhaps I can guess. But whatever is coming
to me, as you put it, I prefer that to marrying you."

He started back as though she had struck him across the face, and he
turned livid.

"You won't say that when----"

He checked himself and without another word left the room, and she
heard his heavy feet blundering down the stairs.

And then she met him again. It was two nights after. She met him in a
horrible dream. She dreamt he was flying after her, that they were both
birds, she a pigeon and he a hawk; and as she made her last desperate
struggle to escape, she heard his hateful voice in her ear:

"Maisie, Maisie, it is your last chance, your last chance!"

She had gone to bed at ten o'clock that night, and it seemed that she
had hardly fallen asleep before the vision came. She struggled to sit up
in bed, she tried to speak, but a big hand was over her mouth.

Then it was true, it was no dream. He was in the room, his hand upon her
mouth, his voice in her ear. The room was in darkness. There was no
sound save the sound of his heavy breathing and his voice.

"They'll be up here in five minutes," he whispered. "I can save you from
hell! I can save you, Maisie! Will you have me?"

She summoned all the strength at her command to shake her head.

"Then keep quiet!"