He insisted further, but she was firm, and finally he put the money away. “One thing is sure, Jennie, you’re not going to escape me,” he said soberly. “You’ll have to come to me eventually. Don’t you know you will? Your own attitude shows that. I’m not going to leave you alone.” “Oh, if you knew the trouble you’re causing me.” “I’m not causing you any real trouble, am I?” he asked. “Surely not.” “Yes. I can never do what you want.” “You will! You will!” he exclaimed eagerly, the bare thought of this prize escaping him heightening his passion. “You’ll come to me.” And he drew her close in spite of all her protests. “There,” he said when, after the struggle, that mystic something between them spoke again, and she relaxed. Tears were in her eyes, but he did not see them. “Don’t you see how it is? You like me too.” “I can’t,” she repeated, with a sob. Her evident distress touched him. “You’re not crying, little girl, are you?” he asked. She made no answer. “I’m sorry,” he went on. “I’ll not say anything more to-night. We’re almost at your home. I’m leaving to-morrow, but I’ll see you again. Yes, I will, sweet. I can’t give you up now. I’ll do anything in reason to make it easy for you, but I can’t, do you hear?” She shook her head. “Here’s where you get out,” he said, as the carriage drew up near the corner. He could see the evening lamp gleaming behind the Gerhardt cottage curtains. “Good-by,” he said as she stepped out. “Good-by,” she murmured. “Remember,” he said, “this is just the beginning.” “Oh no, no!” she pleaded. He looked after her as she walked away. “The beauty!” he exclaimed. Jennie stepped into the house weary, discouraged, ashamed. What had she done? There was no denying that she had compromised herself irretrievably. He would come back. He would come back. And he had offered her money. That was the worst of all. CHAPTER XIX The inconclusive nature of this interview, exciting as it was, did not leave any doubt in either Lester Kane’s or Jennie’s mind; certainly this was not the end of the affair. Kane knew that he was deeply fascinated. This girl was lovely. She was sweeter than he had had any idea of. Her hesitancy, her repeated protests, her gentle “no, no, no” moved him as music might. Depend upon it, this girl was for him, and he would get her. She was too sweet to let go. What did he care about what his family or the world might think?