of one full of blue fire and
hatred, those of the other quiet as pieces of flint.

"And she shall keep with me while I telephone to your father that you
brought her here under promise of marriage, a girl of sixteen, without
her own parents' consent, and now refuse to marry her," Steele added.

A sneer twisted the other man's mouth.

"My father happens to be in the east, where he's been for a month," he
mocked. "If he were here, he wouldn't believe you; he'd know you were
a liar. He knows I'm engaged to marry----" Bite off the words as he
tried, they had escaped.

"Ah, that's the way of it!" Weir remarked with a silky smoothness.
"You expect to marry some other girl--and have no intention whatever
of marrying Mary here."

"To hell with you and your opinions!"

"First, you coax her to Bowenville by a promise, then you persuade her
by more promises to go to Los Angeles," the engineer proceeded
steadily, "and there you would betray and abandon her to a life on the
streets, like the yellow cur you are."

Sorenson snapped his fingers and moved round to the girl's side.

"Pay no attention to him," he addressed her. "He's only a crazy
fool."

But she drew back against the wall, staring at him with a strained,
searching regard.

"Will you marry me to-morrow as he asks?" she questioned anxiously.

"No. I explained the reason why once. Come on; let's get away from
him. Then I'll make everything clear and satisfactory to you."

For a moment she stood wavering, picking at her handkerchief, her face
pale and unhappy, questioning his countenance. Finally she turned to
look at Steele Weir, standing silently by.

"You never said you were engaged to another girl; you told me I was
the only one you loved," she muttered in a choked voice. "But I see
now you won't marry me. You wish me to go with you--but not to marry.
I'm going away--away anywhere. By myself! Where I'll never see any
one!" Burying her face in her hands, she shook with sobs.

"This is what comes from your putting an oar in," said Sorenson,
lifting his fist in a burst of fury to strike Weir.

The latter at once smote him across the mouth with open palm at the
vile epithet that followed. Sorenson staggered, then lunged forward,
tugging at something in his hip-pocket, while the table and dishes
went over in a crash.

Before he could draw the weapon Steele's fingers shot forth and seized
his wrist; his other hand closed about Sorenson's throat in an iron
gr