He sat down near the fire still keeping her hand in his, and when she tried gently to withdraw it, his grasp became firmer. His hand was very soft, as is usual with men who play cards much--and well; and it held tenaciously--again a characteristic of the card-playing hand. “Oh, please, sir, let me go!” she said. “Why, my dear child, don't you know it's the custom for a gentleman to hold a girl's hand in his when he talks to her? But you have always lived among the very poor--have you not?--where they have different customs. Never mind, Fan, you will soon learn. Now look up, Fan, and let me see those wonderful eyes of yours; yes, they are very pretty. You don't mind my teaching you a little, do you, Fan, so that you will know how to behave when you are with well-bred people?” “No, sir; but please, sir, will you let me go?” “Why, you foolish child, I am not going to hurt you. You don't take me for a dentist, do you?” he continued, trying to make her laugh. But his smile and the look in his eyes only frightened her. “Look here, Fan, I will teach you something else. Don't you know that it is the custom among ladies and gentlemen for a young girl to kiss a gentleman when he speaks kindly to her?” “No,” said Fan, reddening and trying again to free herself. “Don't be so foolish, child, or you will never learn how to behave. Do you know that if you make a noise or fuss you'll disturb your mistress and she will be very angry with you. Come now, be a good dear little girl.” And with gentle force he drew her between his knees and put his arm round her. Fan, afraid to cry out, struggled vainly to get free; he held her firmly and closely, and had just put his lips to her face when the door swung open, and Miss Starbrow sailed like a tragedy-queen into the room, her head thrown back, her face white as marble and her eyes gleaming. The visitor instantly rose, while Fan, released from his grip, her face crimson with shame, slunk away, trembling with apprehension. “Captain Horton, what is the meaning of this?” demanded the lady. “Why nothing--a mere trifle--a joke, Pollie. Your little girl doesn't mind being kissed by a friend of the family--that's all.” “Come here, Fan,” she said, in a tone of concentrated rage; and the girl, frightened and hesitating, approached her. “This is the way you behave the moment my back is turned. You corrupt-minded little wretch! Take that!” and with her open hand she struck the girl's face a cruel blow, with force enough to leave the red print of her fingers on the pale cheek. Fan, covering her face with her hands, shrunk back against the wall, sobbing convulsively. “Oh, come, Pollie!” exclaimed Horton, “don't be so hard on the poor monkey--she's a mere child, you know, and didn't think any harm.” Miss Starbrow made no reply, but standing motionless looked at him--watched his face with a fierce, dangerous gleam in her half-closed eyes.