"Yes," said Jim coolly. "I think we'd better have this thing out—here and now."
"No—no," she whispered tensely. "It would be the end of all things. Not yet. I must have time to think——"
Already there was a knock upon the door. Moira had caught Jim by the arm and was hurrying him toward a closet in the corner of the room.
"In here, quickly," she whispered. "You must. My father will go in the other rooms."
"But, Moira——"
"As you love me—please—," she pleaded, pushing him in, shutting the door. Then breathless, she turned and faced the door into the hallway.
CHAPTER XII
QUINLEVIN SPEAKS
A moment longer she waited, summoning calm and resolution, when the knocking on the door began again and her name was called.
"Coming," she replied, looking around the studio keenly. And then catching sight of Jim Horton's hat, whisked it under the couch and then opened the door.