"That means that it's the bookkeeper, not the son, who can make you contented and happy!"
"Phil, you're trying to buy me!"
"Buy you? Yes!" as he dragged her to him and slid one arm about her shoulders. She struggled—very briefly—and then stood quiet, stilling the quaking of her limbs, as he talked into her hair, mingling kisses with words. "All women who are worth while are bought! Do you think I'd want you if you were cheap? Do you think I'd want a woman who would be content to grub and slave?
"Luke will explode when he hears what's brought me here! Paying for what he broke! That's good! John will be cut off—I'll be as good as the old man's heir. And that means—that means you—for me!"
She struggled again when his hand pried her chin upward, but she did not struggle when his burning lips lay on her mouth—and after a moment hers responded to that caress. And then she was free, panting, smoothing her hair.
"What are you saying? What are you doing? Why should I let you?" But her eyes reflected no question and a wicked little flare of triumph ran across her features.
"Because I love you! Because you will love me!" he cried.
"Don't be too sure, Phil," but her voice was without the power of dissuasion. "We must go back now—don't Phil—you're hurting me!"
At the door of her room he stopped. A lonesome soiled incandescent burned in the red carpeted hall, but it was enough to show him the fire in her eyes, to reveal the
