them back as if he would tear her apart.

"Let me see your soul!" he demanded, and his great face came near to peer
down through her eyes.

"Ugh, merely blocked in," and he flung her from him.

"It isn't block tin!" she retorted, angrily, "it's pure gold--as you will
find out!"

He gave her another glance and two more grunts and turned away to devote
himself to Daisy Snow.

Bing! That was the way things came to Warble.

Fate, Kismet, Predestination--whatever it was, it came zip! boom!
hell-for-leather!

"It's not only his strength but his crudeness--like petroleum or Egyptian
art.

"He can control--

"Amazingly impertinent!

"He wasn't--

"But I wish he had been--

"He will be!"