She struck him on the breast with the flat of her hand, and thrust herself away, compelling him to release her. Her anger spent itself in tears, and she hurried across to the piano stool, where she dropped down, feeling more helpless and hopeless than ever in her life before. Her father had given Ormsby the direct hint; and he had proposed again. She could not blame him for that. She could not deny that he was masterful, and handsome, and convincing. There was no escape; and the absurdity of sweeping out of the room in indignation was obvious. He was their guest, and would be their guest as long as her father chose. The ardent lover held himself in check with wonderful self-possession. He drew forward an armchair, and, dropping into it, picked up the cigarettes from the floor, lighted one and settled himself callously to smoke, taking no further notice of her tears. It was better than offering sympathy that would be scorned. It was exactly the right thing at the moment, and Dora saw the wisdom of it and respected him. It lessened her fear; but she cried quietly for a little while; then, drying her tears, she fingered the music on the top of the grand piano, idly. "I'm afraid you think me a very hysterical and stupid person, Mr. Ormsby?" she said at last, growing weary of the strained silence and his indifferent nonchalance. "I don't usually cry like this, and make scenes, and behave like a schoolgirl." "I'm making headway," was Ormsby's thought, "or she wouldn't take the trouble to excuse herself." "I think you are the most sensible girl I ever met, Dora." "You have no right to call me Dora." "In future, I shall do just as I choose. You know your father's wishes--you know mine. I am patient, I can wait. After to-night, you are mine always, and forever. Some day, you will be my wife, and, instead of sitting apart from me over there, you will be here by my side, holding my hand." "Never!" she cried, starting up, and emphasizing her determination by a blow with her hand upon the music lying on the piano top. "Ah! you feel like that now. Dora, show your sweet reasonableness by playing to me for a little while. I promise, I shall not annoy you further." "I don't feel like playing. You have upset me." "Then, sit by the fire." He drew forward a chair of which he knew she was fond, and brought it close to the hearth. "Come! You used to smoke in the old days. Have a cigarette. It will help you to forget unpleasant things. It will calm you--if you don't feel inclined to play." "I would rather play," she faltered. "Whichever you please."