She spoke, as it might be, to a self-willed child. There was no suspicion of resentment in her tone, but rather a tolerant assumption that any outburst by the girl was foredoomed to failure. Penelope dropped into a chair, and her grave grey eyes scrutinised the other with deliberation. "Where is this going to end?" she asked. Mrs. Lengholm administered a final punch to the dough before replying. "I don't know," she confessed mildly. "Why don't you ask Mr. Hughes?" "That snake! Ugh!" Penelope grimaced with conviction. "He's got his faults," admitted Sophie, "but he has a great admiration for you. You could twist him round your little finger if you agreed to marry him. He's rich, he's good looking, he's got culture. You'd be better off than many a princess. I know the man, miss. If he sets his mind on a thing he gets it. He gets it by fair means if he can, but he gets it anyway. I have never known him fail in anything that he set his heart upon. It would be better for you to be dead than to hope to thwart him." "I would rather die," asserted Penelope. "You think you would. That's what the girls say in the novels. This is the real thing. You are dealing with a man who will stand at nothing. Believe me or not, Miss Noelson, I have tried to protect you. I can only go so far. If Larry Hughes takes the bit between his teeth--and he will sooner or later--there is nothing that can stop him. Take an older woman's advice, my dear. Marry him." Penelope tilted her head defiantly. She had tried again and again to reach some point of intimate converse with this woman only to be met by polite formulas. Sophie Lengholm had adopted something of the neutral attitude of a warder towards a prisoner. She had confined herself to making the girl comfortable, and to seeing that she did not escape. Now, however, Penelope thought that she had penetrated her reserve. "We are both women, Mrs. Lengholm. I don't know what hold this man has on you, but you wouldn't allow----" Sophie wiped her hands on her apron. "It isn't what I would or would not allow, my dear. I can go so far; but there might come a point when Larry Hughes would crush me without a thought, if I stood in his way. No one can help you but yourself. The easy way out is to marry him. That isn't so terrible a thing as you fancy--unless there is someone else." A faint blush stained Penelope's cheeks, which did not escape the quick eyes of the older woman. "There is no one else," she said hurriedly, "no one at all. But you must know how I feel. Now, if you are afraid of this man, why don't you go away? Why not come with me, now? I can't pay you anything, but I have friends who would protect you." She clutched impulsively at the skirts of the other who now stood near her. "Dear Mrs. Lengholm----"