Kate's instinctive hatred of this woman, founded partly on what Lillian Drew obviously was, but more on the certainty that she had some close and secret connection with David's life, made Kate tremble. A year before the wrathful words that besought to pass her lips would have burst forth unchecked. But she controlled herself. "What do you want?" she demanded. To pain a person who stirred her antagonism, this twenty uncurbed years had made one of Lillian Drew's first instincts. She had observed before that Kate disliked her and stung under her "little girl;" consequently to inflict her presence and the phrase on Kate was to gratify instinct. She walked with a slight unsteadiness to David's chair, sat down and smiled baitingly up into Kate's face. "I've just come around to have a visit with you, little girl. Sit down." Kate grew rigid. "If you want Mr. Aldrich, he's not here." "Oh, yes, he is. But I don't want him just yet. I want to have a visit with you." She looked Kate up and down. "Well, now, for such a little girl, you're not so bad." Kate's eyes blazed. "I tell you he's not here. There's no use of your waiting." "I'm in no hurry at all. But you're too thin. You've got to put on ten or fifteen pounds if you expect to catch his eye." Kate pointed to the door. "Get out of here!--with that breath of yours!" The vindictive fire gathered in Lillian Drew's eyes; the return blow of her victim had roused her pain-giving desire into wrath. "Oh, you want to catch him, all right!" she laughed, malignantly. "I saw that in a second the other day from the way you looked at him. But d'you think he'll care for a girl like you? I came the other day and found no one around but that nice father of yours. I had a little talk with him, and--well, I've got you sized up just about right. And you think you're the girl for him!" Kate took one step forward and drew back her open hand. But the hand paused in mid-blow. "You drunken she-devil!" she blazed forth, "get out of here!--or I'll have the police put you out!" Lillian Drew sprang up, as livid as if the hand had indeed cracked upon her cheek, and glared at the flame of hatred and wrath that was Kate Morgan. Rage, abetted by liquor, had taken away every thought, every desire, save to strike this girl down. Her hands clenched; but blows make only a passing hurt. All her life she had used words; words, if you have the right sort, are a better weapon--their wound is deep, permanent. "You little skinny alley-cat!" she burst out furiously. "You think you're going to marry him, don't you. You marry him! Oh, Lord!" Kate shivered with her passion. "Get out!" Lillian Drew gave a sharp, crunching, gloating laugh. "That's it!--you think you're going to marry him. You think he's a thief, don't you. You think you're in his class. Well--let me tell you something." She drew close to Kate and her eyes burned upon Kate with wild vindictive triumph. "He's not a thief--he never was one!" "It's a lie!" cried Kate.