"My father happens to be in the east, where he's been for a month," he mocked. "If he were here, he wouldn't believe you; he'd know you were a liar. He knows I'm engaged to marry----" Bite off the words as he tried, they had escaped. "Ah, that's the way of it!" Weir remarked with a silky smoothness. "You expect to marry some other girl--and have no intention whatever of marrying Mary here." "To hell with you and your opinions!" "First, you coax her to Bowenville by a promise, then you persuade her by more promises to go to Los Angeles," the engineer proceeded steadily, "and there you would betray and abandon her to a life on the streets, like the yellow cur you are." Sorenson snapped his fingers and moved round to the girl's side. "Pay no attention to him," he addressed her. "He's only a crazy fool." But she drew back against the wall, staring at him with a strained, searching regard. "Will you marry me to-morrow as he asks?" she questioned anxiously. "No. I explained the reason why once. Come on; let's get away from him. Then I'll make everything clear and satisfactory to you." For a moment she stood wavering, picking at her handkerchief, her face pale and unhappy, questioning his countenance. Finally she turned to look at Steele Weir, standing silently by. "You never said you were engaged to another girl; you told me I was the only one you loved," she muttered in a choked voice. "But I see now you won't marry me. You wish me to go with you--but not to marry. I'm going away--away anywhere. By myself! Where I'll never see any one!" Burying her face in her hands, she shook with sobs. "This is what comes from your putting an oar in," said Sorenson, lifting his fist in a burst of fury to strike Weir. The latter at once smote him across the mouth with open palm at the vile epithet that followed. Sorenson staggered, then lunged forward, tugging at something in his hip-pocket, while the table and dishes went over in a crash. Before he could draw the weapon Steele's fingers shot forth and seized his wrist; his other hand closed about Sorenson's throat in an iron grasp. Slowly under that powerful grip the younger man's struggles ceased, his eyes dilated, his knees yielded and gave way. The revolver was wrenched from his numbed hold. His eyeballs seemed afire; his breast heaved in violent spasms for the denied breath; and his heart appeared about to burst. "You miserable skunk!" Weir said, barely moving his mouth. "I ought to choke the life out of you." Then he released his hold. "I'll keep this gun--and use it if you ever try to pull another on me! Now, make tracks. Remember, too, to pay your bill as you go out."