“Je t’adore!” She patted his cheek. “I have no wish to hurt this Maisie,” she informed him and with a glance included Mellenger in the confidence, “but that which I have, I hold.”
“Exactly,” said Mellenger and commenced to play again, softly and with devilish humor:
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling,
For you and not for me . . .
Dan sprang up and brushed Tamea aside as Julia appeared in the doorway.
“Miss Morrison,” she announced.
As Maisie entered Mark Mellenger’s heart almost skipped a beat. “She has accepted the challenge. Zounds! What a woman!” he thought, and stared at her in vast admiration as she advanced to meet Dan and carelessly gave him her hand—to kiss! As Dan bent his white face over it Tamea’s voice shattered the silence.
“I think, Maisie, perhaps you should know that Dan Pritchard belongs to me. I love him and he is mine.”
Maisie’s smile was tolerant, humorous, maddening; it was apparent to the watching Mellenger that she had anticipated some such open, direct attack and had schooled herself to meet it.
“Indeed, Tamea, my dear!” she drawled. “Has Mr. Pritchard, then, given himself to you so soon?”