Mrs. Montgomery was sounding your praises to me all the evening.
And she hardly did you justice. I shall never forget that supper.
Come, Vivienne, promise me. I want you. You'll never regret coming
with me. No one else will ever give you as pleasant a home."
The girl sighed and looked down at her folded hands.
A sudden jealous suspicion seized Hartley.
"Tell me, Vivienne," he asked, regarding her keenly, "is there
another--is there some one else ?"
A rosy flush crept slowly over her fair cheeks and neck.
"You shouldn't ask that, Mr. Hartley," she said, in some confusion.
"But I will tell you. There is one other--but he has no right--I
have promised him nothing."
"His name?" demanded Hartley, sternly.
"Townsend."
"Rafford Townsend!" exclaimed Hartley, with a grim tightening of his
jaw. "How did that man come to know you? After all I've done for
him--"
"His auto has just stopped below," said Vivienne, bending over the
window-sill. "He's coming for his answer. Oh I don't know what to
do!"
The bell in the flat kitchen whirred. Vivienne hurried to press the
latch button.
"Stay here," said Hartley. "I will meet him in the hall."
Townsend, looking like a Spanish grandee in his light tweeds, Panama
hat and curling black mustache, came up the stairs three at a time.
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