bosom--"something tells me that you have seen HER--the little
wonderful white woman, sweetly perfumed like a rose,--with her silks
and jewels and her fairy car!--and her golden hair. . . ah!--you
said you hated a woman with golden hair! Is that the woman you
hate?"

He stood looking at her with an amused, half scornful expression.

"Hate is too strong a word"--he answered--"She isn't worth hating!"

Her brows contracted in a frown.

"I do not believe THAT!"--she said--"You are not speaking truly.
More likely it is, I think, you love her!"

He caught her roughly by the arm.

"Stop that!" he exclaimed, angrily--"You are foolish and insolent!
Whether I love or hate anybody or anything is no affair of yours!
How dare you speak to me as if it were!"

She shrank away from him. Her lips quivered, and tears welled
through her lashes.

"Forgive me! . . . oh, forgive!" she murmured, pleadingly--"I am
sorry! . . ."

"So you ought to be!" he retorted--"You--Manella--imagine yourself
in love with me . . . yes, you do!--and you cannot leave me alone!
No amorous man ever cadged round for love as much or as shamelessly