dropping his coat in a heap on the floor. "How old do you think this
child is?" she questioned, glancing down at him in her sidelong,
speculative fashion.

He looked at her hard and straight, looked at the slim young body in its
sheath of iridescent green that shimmered with every breath she drew,
and very suddenly he rose.

She made a spring backwards, but she was too late. He caught and held
her.

"Let me go!" she cried, her face crimson.

"But why?" Merryon's voice fell curt and direct. He held her firmly by
the shoulders.

She struggled against him fiercely for a moment, then became suddenly
still. "You're not a brute, are you?" she questioned, breathlessly.
"You--you'll be good to me? You said so!"

He surveyed her grimly. "Yes, I will be good to you," he said. "But I'm
not going to be fooled. Understand? If you marry me, you must play the
part. I don't know how old you are. I don't greatly care. All I do care
about is that you behave yourself as the wife of a man in my position
should. You're old enough to know what that means, I suppose?"

He spoke impressively, but the effect of his words was not quite what he
expected. The point of a very red tongue came suddenly from between the
red lips, and instantly disappeared.