She seized both his hands as she spoke, and pulled him through the crowd into the adjoining reading-room. It was all lighted up, the table strewn with books and papers; but no one was there. Madelon was in a state of wild excitement and triumph. "Look here," she cried; "I promised to make your fortune, did I not, Monsieur Horace?--and I have done it! Ah! you will be rich now--see here!" she poured the contents of her bag on the table before him. "Are you glad?" she said. "Glad!--what on earth are you talking about? Where did you get this money, Madelon?" "Where?--why, there, at the tables, to be sure--where else?" she answered, getting frightened at his manner. "But--gracious powers! are you out of your senses, child?" cried Graham. "Whatever possessed you to come here? What business have you in a place like this? Are you alone?" "Yes, I am alone. I came to make your fortune," answered Madelon, dismayed. "My fortune!" he repeated. "What can have put such a notion into your head? As for that money, the sooner you get rid of it the better. What the devil--good heavens! a baby like you!-- here, give it to me!" "What are you going to do?" cried Madelon, struck with sudden fear, as he swept it up in his hand. "Take it back, of course," he answered, striding into the next room. "Ah! you shall not!" she cried passionately, running after him, and seizing his hand; "it is mine, it is mine, you shall not have it!" "Hush, Madelon," he said, turning round sharply, "don't make a disturbance here." She made no answer, but clung with her whole weight to his arm as he approached the table. She dragged his hand back, she held it tight between hers; her face was quite pale, her teeth set in her childish passion. "Madelon, let go!" said Graham; "do you hear what I say? Let go!" "Give me my money back!" she cried, in a passionate whisper; "you have no right to take it; it is my own."