"What--what is it you wish?" she questioned wearily. He leaned forward and placed his hand, almost in caress, upon her skirt, but she drew the cloth hastily away, a sudden sob shaking her voice. "Oh, please, don't touch me! I cannot stand it--only tell me what it is you wish." "I want you to exercise your influence over that fellow, and prevent his taking professional employment at the 'Little Yankee' mine." "Why?" she lifted her head again, facing him with questioning eyes. "Simply because his doing so will interfere seriously with some of my business plans--that's all." "Then why don't you act the part of a man, and go to him yourself? Why, in this, do you prefer hiding behind the skirts of a woman?" Farnham laughed grimly, in no way embarrassed by the query. "Good Lord, Lizzie! I 've been to him, all right, but the fellow is like a stubborn mule. He has n't got but one selling-out price, so far as I can learn, and that chances to be Beth Norvell. You see the point? Well, that's exactly why I came here to-night. I wanted to be able to tender him the goods." For a moment her eyes remained pitifully pleading; then they suddenly appeared to harden into resolute defiance. As though moving in a dream, she arose slowly to her feet, taking a single step away from him toward the closed door. "As I have already explained," she paused to say coldly, "Mr. Winston is no more to me than any other gentleman whom I may have chanced to meet in friendship. I have not the faintest reason to suppose I could influence his decision in any matter appertaining to his professional work. Moreover, I have not the slightest inclination to try." "Do you dare refuse, in spite of all I can say to your injury?" he asked, even then doubtful of her meaning. "I definitely decline to be your catspaw,--yes. Nothing you can relate truthfully will ever harm me in the estimation of a gentleman, and I shall certainly know how to combat falsehood." "Quite pretty. Injured innocence, I perceive, is to be the line of defence. What! are you already going?" "I am." "Where?" She turned again, standing erect, her face flushing, her hand upon the latch of the door. "If it is imperative that you know, I will tell you. I intend seeking Mr. Winston, and informing him exactly who and what I am." "Now? at this hour of the night?" "Better now, and at this hour of the night, than venture waiting until after you have had an inning. I am not at all ashamed to confess the truth, if I can only be the first to tell my story." She pressed the latch of the door, her breathing so rapid as to be positively painful. With an ill-repressed oath, Farnham sprang to his feet, his rising anger putting an end to all prudence.