“You belong to me and you shall not do it!” The Birge temper was gaining control of the good-natured, generous boy. “Do you hear me?” “I belong to whom I choose! Don’t look at me like that! Do you think I’ll marry a man so narrow-minded that he refuses me the chance to sing in respectable fashion? Better women than I have done so.” The Precore temper was matching the Birge temper without hesitation. “I won’t give my consent,” Dan said in a dangerous tone. “If you sing at that fair, by God—I—I won’t marry you!” Then his face went white as soon as he had spoken. “Oh, no, of course I,” he began piteously, “Thurley—listen—don’t do it, will you—” Thurley’s eyes were closed for a moment. She saw in tempting panorama the old coupé with Miss Clergy saying good-by and adding, “I am rich and lonesome and—” She opened them to look with impersonal scorn at Dan Birge. In that brief interlude he became a presuming, ill-tempered, small-town man who would drive her into becoming an equally ill-tempered, small-town woman—she would have none of it! “Very well,” she answered, drawing off the seal ring which she was wearing until the solitaire was ready, “you’ve said it—not I. Good-by and I hope you’ll be happy.” She turned and walked in the opposite direction. At first Dan started to follow; then he threw back his head with the same insolent toss as Thurley’s, and, squaring off his shoulders, walked in the direction of the hotel. Of course their engagement was _not_ broken; that was too absurd even to fancy. But Thurley must know, first as well as last, that when she married Dan his wishes were to count. Lovely, wilful Thurley-girl, what a wonderful time of it they would have making up! Of course nothing would _really_ interfere with the September wedding—impish and unwelcome thought. It was just that Thurley must see he was in the right, and, when she sang, it would be in her husband’s house—the twenty-thousand-dollar house with the statue of a deer in the front and a pergola and steam heat! He would go up to see Thurley that same night and they would begin all new again and he would write Westcott on a typewriter and on the store official paper and explain that Miss Precore could not keep her engagement. His Thurley singing at a county fair—never! CHAPTER VIII Then the second thrilling event happened! Like all thrilling events it happened with magical speed. First, it was carefully reported by Ali Baba and Hopeful that Thurley Precore had unceremoniously arrived at The Fincherie and demanded to see and speak with Miss Clergy. If some one had meekly sent in a note, it would have been called presumption itself. But to demand to speak with Miss Clergy and to gain one’s point as well was nothing short of marvellous!