"Who are you?" the girl stammered. "What do you want?"

He looked at her moodily and still without answering, though in his
bright and keen eyes a strange light burned.

She was lovely, he thought, of that there could be no question.
But her beauty made to him small appeal, for he was wondering what
kind of soul lay behind those perfect features, that smooth and
delicate skin, those luminous eyes. Yet his eyes were still hard
and it was in his roughest, gruffest tones that he said:

"You needn't be afraid, I won't hurt you."

"I'll give you everything I have," she panted, "if only you'll go
away."

"Not so fast as all that," he answered, coolly, for indeed he had
not taken so mad a risk in order to go away again if he could help
it. "Who is there in the house besides you?"

"Only mother," she answered, looking up at him very pleadingly as
if in hopes that he must relent when he saw her in distress.
"Please, won't you take what you want and go away? Please don't
disturb mother, it would nearly kill her."

"I'm not going to hurt either you or your mother if you'll be
sensible," he said irritably, for, unreasonably enough, the extreme
fear she showed and her pleading tones annoyed him. He had a
feeling that he would like to shake her, it was so absurd of her
to look at him as though she expected him to gobble her up in a