"Hold on, now—hic—my pretty one. I'sn't—ah—dignified to run. Just le' me—hic—see you home; then I'll take a—hic—kiss and we'll call it—hic—square."
Mollie stopped short, her ears actually ringing from the rapid beating of her heart, while her blood was boiling with mingled disgust and indignation. She swept his hand from her arm with a force that made him stagger. But he was too quick for her, and clutched it again instantly.
"Don't dare to touch me! Do not presume to detain me!" she cried authoritatively.
But his fingers only closed more roughly over her wrist.
"Come, come, pretty one, don't be—hic—offish; or If you're in such—hic—a deuced hurry I'll take the—hic—kiss now and let you—hic—go."
He drew her toward him as if to put his threat into execution, but before Mollie's frightened cry for help had barely escaped her lips, the hand was stricken from her arm and her assailant lay sprawling upon the ground at her feet, while she turned with a long breath of relief to find another stalwart figure close beside her.
CHAPTER VIII.
CLIFFORD MEETS HIS IDOL.
The night was so dark, the mist so heavy and the street so illy lighted that Mollie could not clearly see either of her companions; but as she turned to the stranger who had appeared upon the scene so opportunely, a feeling of perfect confidence took possession of her, for his dignified and self-assured bearing inspired her with a sense of absolute security.
"Oh, thank you! thank you!" she breathed gratefully though tremulously, as she involuntarily drew nearer to him.