"My God! gentlemen," he cried, desperately, "think! She's all I've got.
There's lots of dancers, but she's not a dancer to me, she's just Annie.
I don't want her to delight the gayety of nations. I want her for
myself. Maybe I'm selfish, but I can't help that. She's mine, and you're
trying to take her away from me. Suppose she was your girl, and some one
was sneaking her away from you. You'd try to stop it, wouldn't you, if
she was all you had?" He stopped breathlessly and stared alternately
from one to the other of the young men before him. Their countenances
showed an expression of well-bred concern.

"It's for you to judge," he went on, helplessly; "if you want to take
the responsibility, well and good, that's for you to say. I'm not
stopping you, but she's all I've got."

The young man stopped, and there was a pause while he eyed them eagerly.
The elevator bell rang out again with vicious indignation.

Travers struck at the toe of his boot with his stick and straightened
his shoulders.

"I think you're extremely selfish, if you ask me," he said.

The young man stood up quickly and took his elevator rope in both hands.
"All right," he said, quietly, "that settles it. I'll take you up to
Annie now, and you can arrange it with her. I'm not standing in her
way."

"Hold on," protested Van Bibber and Travers in a breath. "Don't be in
such a hurry," growled Travers.