"Understand me, Thomas Blake, I will speak on this subject no more to you. I do not think you will have the bad taste to remain any longer in this house when I ask you to go." "I will do anything on earth for you, Marion--anything in reason you ask me." "Then go." "But is that reasonable? Is it reasonable to ask me to leave you now that you are as free as you were in the olden times?" She looked at him wrathfully, scornfully. "Have you got a second bidder for me in view? Did you not take my heart when it was young, when you were young, and sell it for a sum of money down? You know there is no one in this house but servants. Save yourself the ignominy of my ringing the bell. Sir, will you go? I have affairs to attend to. You have broken your promise by renewing this subject." "Why did you telegraph for me to London?" "Because I thought you might be useful to me, and you have proved useless." "And if I had proved useful, would you have rewarded me?" "Yes." "Oh, Marion, Marion, you are playing with me! Do you mean to say you would have allowed me to hope if I had proved of service in that affair? I did my best. I swear to you I did my best, and if you will only give me your hand now----" "Thomas Blake, I would have rewarded you by saying that your debt to me had been diminished by one useful act of yours. But my contempt for you would have been just the same. Take your elderly protestations of love to fresh ears. Mine are too old and too weary, and too well acquainted with their value, to care much for them. Go now. When I have need of you again I shall send for you." "Marion, this is too bad. You are treating me as if I were a dog." "Worse--much worse. We were intended for one another. Once I would have died for you; now I cannot endure you except when I think you may be of use to me. I shall send for you if I should happen to want you again." His face grew white, and he set his teeth. They were in the green drawing-room of Kilcash House. The full June sun was flaming abroad on the sea, and shining in through the windows. "You outrage me. I am not accustomed to be----" "Told the simple truth," she said, finishing the sentence for him. "I threatened to ring." She went to the bell-rope. He sprang between her and it menacingly. "I believe you are capable of violence," she said, surveying him with a taunting smile. "I am capable of murder." "Only for plunder," she said, still smiling. He ground his teeth. "You will drive me to it, Marion Butler." At the mention of her maiden name, a swift flush of crimson darkened her face. Her eyes flashed, her nostrils dilated, her head bent forward, her mouth opened, the veins in her temple swelled. She clenched her hands--her bosom heaved--she stood still. The sudden change in her appearance arrested his anger. He believed she was going to have a fit. Her maiden name had not been purposely uttered by him. It loosed some current in the brain which had not flowed for years.