Bingle. If I don't get it out now, I'll never have the courage to try
it again. No man was ever in such a desperate plight as I find myself
in to-day. I'll come straight to the point. I am the man called Hinman
and--this child you've got here with you is--mine."

He might have had the grace to exhibit some sign of shame or
compunction, but he did nothing of the kind. He merely looked defiant,
as if expecting Mr. Bingle to say something that he could resent.

But Mr. Bingle sank deeper into his chair, his chin buried, his eyes
fastened in a sort of horror upon the face of the President of the
great bank. He was incapable of uttering a word.

After a little while Force went on: "Blood will tell. All this
accounts for the peculiar, inexplicable attraction that Kathleen has
held for me. It is like a chapter out of an impossible novel. It--"

"And perhaps it accounts for the antipathy the poor child has for
you," said Mr. Bingle, his voice a trifle shrill and uncertain. He did
not take his gaze from the face of his visitor. "It now seems quite
natural to me."

"Nonsense! The child had no means of knowing or even suspecting that
I--"

"She had a birthright, Force. You can't take that away from her. The
hatred for her father was born in her. God wouldn't let her hate the
wrong man, you know."

Force got up from the chair, tremendously moved all of a sudden. A