Her smile at this was not pleasant to look upon.

"Somebody has said that the keenest pleasure in life is the pleasure of
absolute possession. I own you, Bertie Weyburn, body and soul, and you
know it. If you were a big enough man, you'd kill me: if you were big
enough in another way, you'd defy me and take what is coming to you."

"And since I am not yet ready to become either a murderer or a martyr?"

"You will probably do the other remaining thing--marry me some day and
give me a chance to teach you how to spend the money which, thus far,
you don't seem to know what to do with."

"You have money enough of your own--or your father's," I retorted.

"I'd rather spend yours," she said coolly.

It was the old _impasse_ at which we had arrived a dozen times before,
only the wretched involvement seemed to be adding coil upon coil with
the passing of time. I have often wondered if she really meant the
marriage threat. At this distance in time it appears extremely
doubtful. She may have had moments in which the steadily augmenting
output of the Little Clean-Up tempted her, but this is only a surmise.
And a little later I was to learn that during this very winter when she
was dragging me bound and helpless at the end of her trail-rope, she
was--but I need not anticipate.

"You have me bluffed to a standstill, but sometimes I wonder if it
isn't only a bluff," I said, in reply to her remark that she'd rather
spend my money than her father's. "What if I should tell you here and
now that this is the end of It?--that you can't make a plaything of me
any longer? What would you do?"

"There are a number of things I might do--to one who is so temptingly
vulnerable as you are, Bertie. For one, I might send a wire to the
sheriff of the home county, or to the warden of the penitentiary.
Really, when I come to think of it, I'm not sure that I oughtn't to do
it, anyway, on the score of public morals. Nobody would blame me; and
some few would applaud."

"Morals!" I exploded. "You don't know the meaning of the word!"

"Maybe not," she rejoined lightly. "Not many women do. But sending
the wire would be a rather crude way of bringing you to terms;
especially since I know of at least one better way. I'm going to
hazard a guess. You haven't told the Cripple Creek girl anything about
your past?"

I was silent.

"I thought not," she went on smoothly. "With some women, perhaps with
most women, it wouldn't make any g