as much again whenever you need it. You say you won't take it--why, it's
yours. You must. I want to be friends. I don't want this thing lying
between us, crossing our thoughts. If I ask you impertinent questions,
which I undoubtedly shall, I want them to have the sanction of good
will. I want you to know that I feel nothing but kindness for
you--nothing but pleasure in your company."

He paused, confounded by the blank wall of her apparent indifference.
Marcus Gard was accustomed to having his friendly offices solicited.
That his overtures should be rebuffed was incredible. Moreover, he had
looked for feminine softening, had expected the moist eye and quivering
lip as a matter of course; it seemed the inevitable answer to that cue.
It was not forthcoming. Again the conviction of some great psychic loss
disturbed him.

"My dear Mr. Gard," the level, colorless voice was saying, "I fear we
are quite beside the subject, are we not? I am not requesting anything.
I am not putting myself under obligations to you; I trust you
understand."

Had an explosion wrecked the building, without a doubt Marcus Gard, the
resourceful and energetic leader of men, would, without an instant's
hesitation, have headed the fire brigade. Before this moral bomb he
remained silent, paralyzed, uncertain of himself and of all the world.
He could not adjust himself to that angle of the situation. Mrs. Marteen
somehow conveyed to his distracted senses that blackmail was a mere
detail of business, and "being under obligations" a heinous crime. At
that rate the number of criminals on his list was legion, and certainly
appeared unconscious of the enormity of their offense. It dawned upon
him that he, the Great Man, was being "put in his place"; that his