“Ah!” exclaimed Hartley, with a tender, reminiscent light in his eye; “I remember well the evening I first saw you at the Montgomerys’. Mrs. Montgomery was sounding your praises to me all the evening. And she hardly did you justice. I shall never forget that supper. Come, Vivienne, promise me. I want you. You’ll never regret coming with me. No one else will ever give you as pleasant a home.” The girl sighed and looked down at her folded hands. A sudden jealous suspicion seized Hartley. “Tell me, Vivienne,” he asked, regarding her keenly, “is there another—is there some one else?” A rosy flush crept slowly over her fair cheeks and neck. “You shouldn’t ask that, Mr. Hartley,” she said, in some confusion. “But I will tell you. There is one other—but he has no right—I have promised him nothing.” “His name?” demanded Hartley, sternly. “Townsend.” “Rafford Townsend!” exclaimed Hartley, with a grim tightening of his jaw. “How did that man come to know you? After all I’ve done for him—” “His auto has just stopped below,” said Vivienne, bending over the window-sill. “He’s coming for his answer. Oh I don’t know what to do!” The bell in the flat kitchen whirred. Vivienne hurried to press the latch button. “Stay here,” said Hartley. “I will meet him in the hall.” Townsend, looking like a Spanish grandee in his light tweeds, Panama hat and curling black mustache, came up the stairs three at a time. He stopped at sight of Hartley and looked foolish. “Go back,” said Hartley, firmly, pointing downstairs with his forefinger. “Hullo!” said Townsend, feigning surprise. “What’s up? What are you doing here, old man?” “Go back,” repeated Hartley, inflexibly. “The Law of the Jungle. Do you want the Pack to tear you in pieces? The kill is mine.” “I came here to see a plumber about the bathroom connections,” said Townsend, bravely. “All right,” said Hartley. “You shall have that lying plaster to stick upon your traitorous soul. But, go back.” Townsend went downstairs, leaving a bitter word to be wafted up the draught of the staircase. Hartley went back to his wooing. “Vivienne,” said he, masterfully. “I have got to have you. I will take no more refusals or dilly-dallying.” “When do you want me?” she asked. “Now. As soon as you can get ready.” She stood calmly before him and looked him in the eye. “Do you think for one moment,” she said, “that I would enter your home while Héloise is there?” Hartley cringed as if from an unexpected blow. He folded his arms and paced the carpet once or twice. “She shall go,” he declared grimly. Drops stood upon his brow. “Why should I let that woman make my life miserable? Never have I seen one day of freedom from trouble since I have known her. You are right, Vivienne. Héloise must be sent away before I can take you home. But she shall go. I have decided. I will turn her from my doors.” “When will you do this?” asked the girl. Hartley clinched his teeth and bent his brows together.