"I know you don't want to eat with the cook, do you?" she asked, and before he could protest she deftly threw off the concealing apron, and stood before him in all the glory of womanhood, a 'delicate flush in her cheeks, her eyes bright, the low cut, somber gown setting off to perfection the rounded whiteness of her neck and arms. Palmer, in admiration, gazed at her until with a laugh she broke the spell. "I wanted to surprise Dick," she said simply. "He's always making fun of me for living in the country, and I thought I'd show him I knew something about dressmaking, anyway. Do you like it?" "Like it?" the young man exclaimed fervently. "Like it? Why, by Jove, I should say I did. You're simply ripping, you know. You're--" Words failed him, and by way of relieving his feelings he began a savage onslaught on the ducks. As the supper progressed, better and better grew his humor. Everything was delicious, and his third glass of champagne found him gazing at the dainty figure opposite through a mellow haze of sentimental content, until, finally, when she rose and held the match for his cigar, he somehow found the little hand which hung so invitingly at her side, and held it close until she gently withdrew it. "You mustn't," she whispered, with heightened color. "Won't you please fix the fire? It's half out." He rose reluctantly to obey, and in that instant she poured the contents of a tiny phial into his glass. Then, as he turned again towards her, his face flushed, his eyes gleaming, his throat working convulsively, she raised her own glass in laughing challenge. "One more," she cried daringly: "To our better acquaintance!" Palmer touched his glass to hers and drained it at a gulp. "To our better acquaintance," he echoed thickly, and, putting down the glass, he came unsteadily toward her, and, before she could move, had seized her in his arms. The girl struggled faintly. "Oh, don't," she cried piteously, as she strove to free herself from his grasp; "please don't, Mr. Palmer! Let me go!" But her strength was as nothing compared to his, and with all her seeming shrinking, one would have said that her lithe form clung even more closely to his. Suddenly Palmer released her, raising both hands quickly to his head as he staggered back. "God," he cried, in a strange, choked voice, "it's all dark! I can't see!" Then, with a last conscious effort, he reeled towards the window and fell heavily face downwards on the cushioned seat. CHAPTER VIII GORDON PREVENTS A SCANDAL. "Exactly," said Gordon. "Yes, I understand. I trust I shall be equally so. In about fifteen minutes, you think. All right. Good-by." With a smile he hung up the receiver, and turned again to his work. Ten minutes more, and Harrington, his confidential clerk, entered, a puzzled expression on his face. He bent over the desk and spoke a few words to Gordon in a low tone. Gordon nodded.