d idiot to talk of
marryin' agin."

"Oh, uncle!"

With a wail of despair, the girl sank back and covered her face with
her hands. Now that she believed the incredible, she could utter no
protest. The sacrifice demanded was too great. In that bitter moment
she would have welcomed poverty, prayed even for death, as the
alternative to marriage with the man to whom she was being sold.

Verity leaned over the table again and finished the glass of port.
This time there was no lip-smacking, or other aping of the connoisseur.
He was angry, almost alarmed. Resistance, even of this passive sort,
raised the savage in him. Hitherto, Iris had been ready to obey his
slightest whim.

"There's no use cryin' 'Oh, uncle,' an' kicking up a fuss," he snapped
viciously. "Where would you 'ave bin, I'd like to know, if it wasn't
for me? In the gutter--that's where your precious fool of a father
left your mother an' you. You're the best dressed, an' best lookin',
an' best eddicated girl i' Bootle to-day--thanks to me. When your
mother kem 'ere ten year ago, an' said her lit'rary gent of a 'usband
was dead, neither of you 'ad 'ad a square meal for weeks--remember
that, will you? It isn't my fault you've got to marry Bulmer. It's
just a bit of infernal bad luck--the same for both of us, if it comes
to that. An' why shouldn't you 'ave some of the sours after I've given
you all the sweets? You'll 'ave money to burn; I'm not axin' you to
give up some nice young feller for 'im. If you play your cards well,
you can 'ave all the fun you want----"

The girl staggered to her feet. She could endure the man's coarseness
but not his innuendoes.

"I will do what you ask," she murmured, though there was a pitiful
quivering at the corners of her mouth that bespoke an agony beyond the
relief of tears. "But please don't say any more, and never again
allude to my dear father in that way, or I may--I may forget what I owe
you."

She was unconscious of the contempt in her eyes, the scornful ring in
her voice, and Verity had the good sense to restrain the wrath that
bubbled up in him until the door closed, and he was alone. He grabbed
the decanter and refilled his glass.

"Nice thing!" he growled. "I offer 'er a fortune an' a bald-'eaded owd
devil for a 'usband, 'oo ought to die in a year or two an' leave 'er
everything; yet she ain't satisfied. D--n 'er eyes, if I'd keep 'er as
scullery-maid she'd 'ave different notions."

With the