His voice was so intense that she cast a look over her shoulder instinctively. He came close to her, took her by both arms and held her so. “You listen to me,” he said, with tone of the master. “I don’t know very well how to make love. I never have known. I even was fool enough and quixotic enough to think I’d let another man have you if that would make you happy. But I know now that I wouldn’t. I know that you are mine. I’m going to be so much of a braggart now--so conceited that you won’t recognise me! I’m going to say to you that you have never loved any one else but me, and you never will love any one else. But life has been too easy for you, Sylvena, and your heart has never been stirred and awakened like the hearts of some of us poor devils. You have followed your one duty as you saw it. Others have filched from me, who deserved it most, this bit of love, that bit of loyalty. Now I, Phineas Look, stand forth here and demand my own. Understand me! I demand it. You are mine, Sylvie Willard, because I love you better than myself. You are mine because you love me. You are mine because you need my arm about you in the bitterest hour of your life. That hour is now upon you. I’m going to strike the blow, Sylvie, because it will make you mine.” His voice trembled in sympathy for her. But he went on: “It is not my brother who is keeping your father awake. It is King Bradish, the rascal, the sneak, the drunken villain who has plunged him into ruin. It has been weeks--yes, months--since you or your father, or even his own mother, have received a word from him.” He checked the expostulation that was on her lips. Her eyes were wide and fixed on his. Her face worked pitifully. “His mother has lied for him. You have lied for him, Sylvie, because your father asked it of you. I know all about it. There are times when a woman’s lie for a man is holy, but not in this case. I say to you that King Bradish is a profligate drunkard, a thief--a worse than thief, for he has dragged your father into dishonesty as well as ruin. There! There’s the bitter blow. Bear it, Sylvie, bear it, for it will make a truer, nobler woman of you.” Her knees trembled so that he put his arm about her. The music box started in once more on the same tune. With a growl under his breath he placed the half fainting woman on her chair, strode into the hall and entered the other room by a side door. He seized the music box from the lap of the astonished and frightened operator, slammed up a window and threw it as far as he could. Its plaintive query ceased in a crash. He found Sylvena on her knees beside the chair, clutching the rungs and staring into vacancy. He knelt beside her and took her white face into his strong hands.