"No," said the girl, pushing the glass away; "not here or now."
Storms saw that the men around his portion of the table were occupied, and spoke to her in a swift, low voice:
"When and where?"
The girl gave her head a toss, and moved down the table, casting a look over her shoulder, which made the young man restless in his seat. Directly she came back, and leaning close to him, while her hand was busy with the glasses, whispered sharply:
"To-night, after the house is closed, I want to see you, face to face, just once more."
"That will do," whispered Storms; "and a nice time I shall have of it," he thought, with some apprehension.
"A fine lass that," said the man who sat nearest him, as the barmaid moved across the room, with the force and rude grace of a leopardess. "Kin to the mistress here, isn't she—a cousin?"
The man spoke loud enough for others to hear, and followed the girl with bold, admiring eyes.
Storms answered him with sneering sarcasm. He felt this to be imprudent, but could not suppress the venom of his nature, even when his heart was quaking with terror.
"I have not inquired into her pedigree. You may be more interested. She is a little out of my level."