He did not at once obey; his faculties were still so engaged with his struggle to turn her aside, and with his failure, that he scarcely heard her.

“Please remove your hands!” she repeated, her voice not going up by so much as a semi-tone.

His hands fell to his sides.

“Despite what you say, Mr. Clifford,” she continued in the same even voice of calm decision, “I am not going to marry you, and I am going to marry Mr. Morton.”

He was composed again. “Perhaps you may never marry me,” he returned grimly. “But you certainly will never marry Jack Morton.”

“And why not?”

“Because I shall prevent it.”

“How?”

“By any and whatever means seem most effective.”

Her gaze sharpened. Then the red of anger faintly tinted the tawny satin of her cheek.

“You mean to say you would be low enough to tell Jack or his father about me and my family?”

He looked her straight in the face. “You have admitted that that procedure might be effective.”

“You wouldn’t dare do that!” And she seized his arm with a grasp no less intense than his of a minute before, and glared at him.

“I’ll do exactly what may be necessary, Miss Regan.”

[69]“You—you—” she gasped. “You have no right to interfere in my affairs!”

[69]

“There is far more to this affair than just You, Miss Regan.” With an almost impersonal movement he removed her hand from his arm and let it fall. “I must be going. But do not forget for a moment that I am going to prevent your marriage, and prevent it in whatever way will be most effective.”

He bowed slightly. Standing just where he had left her, she watched him go out, within her a dazed commotion of surprise, consternation, suspense—and, strangely, not quite so high an 

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