"Oh, Mr. Frankl, do I look as if I was in the mood for that kind of
fun to-night, a poor wretch like me, steeped in misery, my God
knows".

"_I_ love _you_!"

He suddenly grasped her wrist, his eyes blazing.

"Stop--let me get out of this--" she said.

"Wait!--I give you your chance!--Listen: I am not a man whose mind
you can read right off like a book, I twist like an eel, I am deep,
I am tricky, and I never yet met the man that I didn't hoodwink.
Ninety-nine per cent of what I say is a lie; even when it is the
truth, it is a lie just the same. But at this particular moment I am
talking the God's truth: I want you! You shall be my little girl!
Chuck Richard!--chuck the swine's-flesh!--I'll take you right away--
to Paris--this very night--"

She had arisen, alarmed by his hissed fury. "But, you are stark,
staring, raving mad", she said proudly, "that is what you are".

Frankl struck the side of the brougham, it flew, and Margaret
tottered backward with an exclamation. The next moment she sent
forth a scream, the grip of Frankl on her wrist agonizing her bones.

"Where are we going?" she cried out.

"I gave you your chance!" was Frankl's fierce answer.