His heart beating like a trip-hammer, Winston stood motionless, staring into the girl's appealing face, suddenly aroused to her full meaning, and as thoroughly awakened to a conception of what she really had become to him. The thought of losing her, losing her perhaps to another, seemed to chill his very soul. "Assuredly, I will respect your secret," he answered, mastering his voice with an effort. "I understand when I am bowled out. What is it you desire me to do?" He could not perceive in that dim light the sudden mist of tears clouding her eyes, but she lifted her gloved hand and swept them aside. "It is not easy to say such things, yet I must. I wish you to go away; go back to Denver," she exclaimed; then, all at once, her strained voice broke into a little sob. "I cannot stand your presence here!" That last impetuous sentence burst through his armor of constraint, and for the instant he forgot everything but that thoughtless confession. She read it in his face, and as quickly flung forth her hand in warning, but he only grasped it tightly within his own. "You cannot stand it!" he cried in passionate eagerness. "Then you must care for me? You must love me, Beth?" "No, no!" Her eyes were full of agony, and she sought to free her imprisoned hand. "Oh, hush! I beg of you, hush! You--you hurt me so. I will not permit you to speak such words. Please release my hand." He loosened his grasp, feeling bewildered, ashamed, dimly conscious that he had been guilty of an ungentlemanly action, yet deep within his own heart assured that he felt no regret. "Do you mean that?" he questioned vaguely. "Yes," and all the previous tremor had left her clear voice. "I did not suppose you would ever say such a thing to me. I gave you no right to speak those words." "My own heart gave me the right." Possibly the woman in her conquered; perhaps there was a nameless hunger within her soul which made her long to hear the forbidden words just once from his lips. "The right, you say? What right?" "To tell you that I love you." She drew a quick, quivering breath, the rich color surging into her cheeks, her gloved hands clasped across her heaving bosom as though to still the fierce throbbing of her heart. An instant she stood as if palsied, trembling, from head to foot, although he could perceive nothing. Her lips smiled. "Oh, indeed," she said archly, "and how very prettily you said it! The only son of Colonel Winston, the wealthy banker of Denver, honors Miss Norvell, actress, and she, of course, feels highly grateful!" "Beth, stop!" His voice was indignantly earnest. "It is not that; you must know it is not that!"