have frightened you?" he said.

"Yes," was her whispered reply.

"But it is your dream come true."

She shrank back--not in aversion, but gently. "No--it isn't my dream,"
she replied.

"You don't realize it yet, but you will."

She shook her head positively. "I couldn't ever think of you in that
way."

He did not need to ask why. She had already explained when they were
talking of Tetlow. There was a finality in her tone that filled him with
despair. It was his turn to look at her in terror. What power this slim
delicate girl had over him! What a price she could exact if she but
knew! Knew? Why, he had told her--was telling her in look and tone and
gesture--was giving himself frankly into captivity--was prostrate,
inviting her to trample. His only hope of escape lay in her
inexperience--that she would not realize. In the insanities of passion,
as in some other forms of dementia, there is always left a streak of
reason--of that craft which leads us to try to get what we want as
cheaply as possible. Men, all but beside themselves with love, will
bargain over the terms, if they be of the bargaining kind by nature.
Norman was not a haggler. But common prudence was telling him how unwise
his conduct was, how he was inviting the defeat of his own purposes.

He waved his hand impatiently. "We'll see, my dear," he said with a
light good-humored laugh. "I mustn't forget that I came to see your
father."

She looked at him doubtfully. She did not understand--did not quite
like--this abrupt change of mood. It suggested to her simplicity a lack
of seriousness, of sincerity. "Do you really wish to see my father?" she
inquired.

"Why else should I come away over to Jersey City? Couldn't I have talked
with you at the office?"

This seemed convincing. She continued to study his face for light upon
the real character of this strange new sort of man. He regarded her with
a friendly humorous twinkle in his eyes. "Then I'll take you to him,"
she said at length. She was by no means satisfied, but she could not
discover why she was dissatisfied.

"I can't possibly do you any harm," he urged, with raillery.

"No, I think not," replied she gravely. "But you mustn't say those
things!"

"Why not?" Into his eyes came their strongest, most penetrating look. "I
want you. And I don't intend to give you up. It isn't my habit to give
up. So, sooner or later I get what I go after."

"You make me--afraid," she said nervously.

"Of wh