“Listen to me,” he said finally, still holding her hand. “I may not want you to do anything immediately. I want you to think it over. But you belong to me. You say you care for me. You admitted that this morning. I know you do. Now why should you stand out against me? I like you, and I can do a lot of things for you. Why not let us be good friends now? Then we can talk the rest of this over later.” “But I mustn’t do anything wrong,” she insisted. “I don’t want to. Please don’t come near me any more. I can’t do what you want.” “Now, look here,” he said. “You don’t mean that. Why did you say you liked me? Have you changed your mind? Look at me.” (She had lowered her eyes.) “Look at me! You haven’t, have you?” “Oh no, no, no,” she half sobbed, swept by some force beyond her control. “Well, then, why stand out against me? I love you, I tell you—I’m crazy about you. That’s why I came back this time. It was to see you!” “Was it?” asked Jennie, surprised. “Yes, it was. And I would have come again and again if necessary. I tell you I’m crazy about you. I’ve got to have you. Now tell me you’ll come with me.” “No, no, no,” she pleaded. “I can’t. I must work. I want to work. I don’t want to do anything wrong. Please don’t ask me. You mustn’t. You must let me go. Really you must. I can’t do what you want.” “Tell me, Jennie,” he said, changing the subject. “What does your father do?” “He’s a glass-blower.” “Here in Cleveland?” “No, he works in Youngstown.” “Is your mother alive?” “Yes, sir.” “You live with her?” “Yes, sir.” He smiled at the “sir.” “Don’t say ‘sir’ to me, sweet!” he pleaded in his gruff way. “And don’t insist on the Mr. Kane. I’m not ‘mister’ to you any more. You belong to me, little girl, me.” And he pulled her close to him. “Please don’t, Mr. Kane,” she pleaded. “Oh, please don’t. I can’t! I can’t! You mustn’t.” But he sealed her lips with his own. “Listen to me, Jennie,” he repeated, using his favorite expression. “I tell you you belong to me. I like you better every moment. I haven’t had a chance to know you. I’m not going to give you up. You’ve got to come to me eventually. And I’m not going to have you working as a lady’s maid. You can’t stay in that place except for a little while. I’m going to take you somewhere else. And I’m going to leave you some money, do you hear? You have to take it.” At the word money she quailed and withdrew her hand. “No, no, no!” she repeated. “No, I won’t take it.” “Yes, you will. Give it to your mother. I’m not trying to buy you. I know what you think. But I’m not. I want to help you. I want to help your family. I know where you live. I saw the place to-day. How many are there of you?” “Six,” she answered faintly. “The families of the poor,” he thought. “Well, you take this from me,” he insisted, drawing a purse from his coat. “And I’ll see you very soon again. There’s no escape, sweet.” “No, no,” she protested. “I won’t. I don’t need it. No, you mustn’t ask me.”