stairs he heard her door slam viciously and the bolt slip. He came
down, his face flushed and angry. He stood a long while with his back
to the fire, staring at the lamp or the darkness of the uncurtained
window. By and by he shook his head and set his jaw in sullen
determination; then he went up-stairs and knocked softly at her door.
There was no answer. Again, a little louder; silence.

"Nelly," he said; "Nelly, let me speak to you--just a minute?"

Silence.

"Nelly!"

Silence.

"Damn!" said Lloyd Pryor, and went stealthily back to the parlor where
the fire was out and the lamp flickering into smoky darkness.

A quarter of an hour later he went up-stairs again.

"How _could_ you say it!" "I didn't mean it, Nelly; it was only a
joke." "A joke! Oh, a cruel joke, a cruel joke!" "You know I didn't
mean it. Nelly dearest, I didn't mean it!" "You do love me?" "I love
you.... Kiss me...."




CHAPTER VIII