"But listen to me, Nell," he pleaded, reaching up and attempting to draw her hands aside. "I can give you a handsome home in New York. If you will be my wife, I will return there at once." She tore herself from his hands, and her confusion vanished, a feeling of indignation taking its place. "Mr. Elliston, I tell you I do not love you, and never can. I was never more surprised in my life than now. You are old enough to be my father, sir." He came to his feet also, and leaned with his hands clinching the top of a chair. There was a frown on his brow and a glitter in his black eyes unpleasant to see. "Must I call you coquette?" he said, in an undertone of concentrated feeling. "You certainly have encouraged me." "Never, sir," was the indignant response. "Then our paths must lie apart hereafter, I suppose, Miss Darrel?" "That is as you shall determine," she answered. "As my brother's friend, I have tolerated you, and can do so in the future." "Ah! It was only TOLERATION then. I did not think this of you, Nell Darrel. Do you know that many of the wealthiest, most beautiful maidens of Gotham would jump at the offer you have just spurned so lightly?" "I will not deny it." "I could have long ago taken a partner to share my life in my elegant home on Fifth avenue, but do you know the reason of my not doing so? I can tell you. I had not seen a girl to my taste. Until I came West I believed I should never marry. From the moment of meeting you, however, I changed my mind. To see was to love, and--" "Please cease, Mr. Elliston," pleaded Nell Darrel, putting out her hand deprecatingly. "This is a most painful subject to me." "Very well." With a sigh he crossed the floor and stood by the window once more. He seemed struggling to keep down his emotions. At that moment the detective's sister pitied the man, and felt really sorry that she had unintentionally been the means of making him miserable. "Mr. Elliston, please do not feel so badly. I respect you, and hope we may ever be friends." She approached him and held out her hand. He turned and regarded her with a queer glow in his eyes. "I accept your proffer of continued friendship," he said with a forced smile. "It is better so than open war between us." "It would avail nothing to make war on a friend," she said simply. "I respect you very highly, Mr. Elliston, and as Dyke's friend, shall always hope to retain your good opinion." "Whatever may happen, you will have that," he returned. Soon after the gentleman departed. The moment he was gone Nell Darrel sank to a chair, and, bowing her head on the table, began to cry. Strange proceeding, was it not, after what had taken place? Women are enigmas that man, after ages of study, has been unable to solve. Another face came before the girl's mind at that moment, the face of one to whom her heart had been given in the past, and who, for some unaccountable reason, had failed to put in an appearance or write during the past six months.