He drove first to the Milbrey house, on the chance that she might be at home. Jarvis answered his ring. "Miss Milbrey is with Mrs. Van Geist, sir." Jarvis spoke regretfully. Pie had reasons of his own for believing that the severance of the Milbrey relationship with Mr. Bines had been nothing short of calamitous. He rang Mrs. Van Geist's bell, five minutes later. "The ladies haven't come back, sir. I don't know where they might be. Perhaps at the Valners', in Fifty-second Street, sir." He rang the Valners' bell. "Mrs. Van Geist and Miss Milbrey? They left at least half an hour ago, sir." "Go down the avenue slowly, driver!" At Fortieth Street he looked down to the middle of the block. Mrs. Van Geist, alone, was just alighting from her coupe. He signalled the driver. "Go to the other address again, in Thirty-seventh Street." Jarvis opened the door. "Yes, sir--thank you, sir--Miss Milbrey is in, sir. I'll see, sir." He crossed the Rubicon of a door-mat and stood in the unlighted hall. At the far end he saw light coming from a door that he knew opened into the library. Jarvis came into the light. Behind him appeared Miss Milbrey in the doorway. "Miss Milbrey says will you enter the library, Mr. Bines?" CHAPTER XL. Some Rude Behaviour, of Which Only a Western Man Could Be Guilty He walked quickly back. At the doorway she gave him her hand, which he took in silence. "Why--Mr. Bines!--you wouldn't have surprised me last night. To-night I pictured you on your way West." Her gown was of dull blue dimity. She still wore her hat, an arch of straw over her face, with ripe red cherries nodding upon it as she moved. He closed the door behind him. "Do come in. I've been having a solitary rummage among old things. It is my last night here. We're leaving for the country to-morrow, you know." She stood by the table, the light from a shaded lamp making her colour glow. Now she noted that he had not spoken. She turned quickly to him as if to question. He took a swift little step toward her, still without speaking. She stepped back with a sudden instinct of fright. He took two quick steps forward and grasped one of her wrists. He spoke in cool, even tones, but the words came fast: "I've come to marry you to-night; to take you away with me to that Western country. You may not like the life. You may grieve to death for all I know--but you're going. I won't plead, I won't beg, but I am going to take you." She had begun to pull away in alarm when he seized her wrist. His grasp did not bruise, it did not seem to be tight; but the hand that held it was immovable. "Mr. Bines, you forget yourself. Really, this is--" "Don't waste time. You can say all that needs to be said--I'll give you time for that before we start--but don't waste the time saying all those useless things. Don't waste time telling me I'm crazy. Perhaps I am. We can settle that later."