on the softly mattressed cot in one corner of the
room; and nearly went to sleep.

She was awakened--it must have been quite sleep--by Francis, on the
threshold. His eyes were blazing, and he was evidently angry at her to
the last degree--angrier even than he had been that time in the city
when he nearly threw the telephone at her.

"Is this the sort of person you are?" he demanded furiously. "Look at
this telegram!"

Marjorie, frightened, rose from the couch with her heart beating like a
triphammer.

"Let me see," she asked.

He handed the telegram to her with an effect of wanting to shake her.

"Am coming up to arrange with you about Mrs. Ellison," it said. "Know
all."

It was signed by Logan.

"Good heavens!" said Marjorie helplessly.

"Knows all!" said Francis bitterly. "And that's the sort of girl you
are!"

CHAPTER V

Marjorie froze in consternation. She had forgotten to allow for
Francis's gusts of anger; indeed, there had been no need, for since his
one flare-up over the telephone he had been perfectly gentle and
courteous to her.

She stared at him, amazed.

"But I didn't do anything to make that happen!" she protested. "I
never dreamed--why, I'd have too much pride----"

"Pride!" thundered Francis. "It's plain cause and effect. You write
to that pup in New York, and I give you the envelope and paper--help
you straight through it, good heavens!--and you use my decency to
appeal to him for help, after you've agreed to try it out and see it
through!"

Marjorie stiffened with anger.

"I _was_ going to try it out and see it through," she countered with
dignity. "But if you treat me this way I see no reason why I should.
Even this housekeeper of yours would give me money to escape with."

"Escape! You act as if you were in a melodrama!" said Francis angrily.
"We made a bargain, that's all there is to it; and the first chance you
get, you smash it. I suppose that's the way women act. . . . I don't
know much about women, I admit."

"You don't know much about me," said Marjorie icily, "if you jump to
conclusions like that about me. Whatever that Logan man knows he
doesn't know from me. Have you forgotten Lucille?"

"Lucille wouldn't----" began Francis, and stopped.

"And why wouldn't she? Didn't she tell me that I was a poor little
pet, and that men could always take care of themselves and, then turn
around and help you carry me away? And it was carrying me away--it wa