"You see, Manella?" he said, in quiet tones--"There is no such thing as 'love,' but there is such a thing as 'wanting.' And--for the most selfish reasons man ever had--I want HER--not you!" The colour rushed back to her cheeks in a warm glow--her great dark eyes were ablaze with indignation. She drew her hand quickly from his hold. "And I hope you will never get her!" she said, passionately--"I will pray the Holy Virgin to save her from you! For you are wicked! She is like an angel--and you are a devil!--yes, surely you must be, or you could not say such horrible things! You do not want me, you say? I know that! I am a fool to have shown you my heart--you have broken it, but you do not care--you could have been master of my brain and soul whenever you pleased---" "Ah yes, dear!" he interrupted, with a smile--"That would be so easy!" The touch of satire in these words was lost on her,--she took them quite literally, and a sudden softness sweetened her anger. "Yes!--quite easy!" she said--"And you would be pleased! You would do as you wished with me--men like to rule women!" "When it is worth while!" he thought, looking at her with a curious pitifulness as one might look at a struggling animal caught in a net. Aloud he said-- "Yes, Manella!--men like to rule women. It is their special privilege--they have enjoyed it always, even in the days when the Indian 'braves' beat their squaws out here in California, and killed them outright if they dared to complain of the beating! Women are busy just now trying to rule men--it's an experiment, but it won't do! Men are the masters of life! They expect to be obeyed by all the rest of creation. _I_ expect to be obeyed!--and so, Manella, when I tell you to go home, you must go! Yes!--love, tempers and all!--you must go!" She met his eyes with a resolved look in her own. "I am going!" she answered--"But I shall come again. Oh, yes! And yet again! and very often! I shall come even if it is only to find you dead on this hill--killed by your own secret! Yes--I shall come!" He gave an involuntary movement of surprise and annoyance. Had Mr. Senator Gwent discussed his affairs with this beautiful foolish girl who, like some forest animal, cared for nothing but the satisfaction of mating where her wishes inclined. "What do you mean, Manella?" he demanded, imperatively--"Do you expect to find me dead?" She nodded vehemently. Tears were in her eyes and she turned her head away that he might not see them. "What a cheerful prospect!" he exclaimed, gaily--"And I'm to be killed by my own secret, am I? I wonder what it is! Ah, Manella, Manella! That stupid old Gwent has been at you, stuffing your mind with a lot of nonsense--don't you believe him! I've no 'secret' that will kill me--I don't want to be killed; No, Manella! Though you come 'again and yet again and ever so often' as you say, you will not find me dead! I'm too strong!"