She interrupted.
"How dare you interfere in my affairs! Who gave you the right?"
"Fate gave me the right. I'm its chosen specialist on the job, and you may take my word for it, my dear girl, the job's going to be done, and done up brown."
He lit a fresh cigarette.
"It will be mighty unpleasant for you," he went on, thoughtfully. "There's the publicity, you know. Of course, all the newspapers will have your pictures—"
"Oh!"
"And a lot of romantic stories—"
"Oh—you—you—"
"But of course you can avoid all that," he reminded her, "by giving me your promise."
She choked back her rising fury, and made an obvious effort at self-control.