They looked at each other; Storri trying to seem brave, the San Reve with staring courage, open and more real.
"You know, my San Reve, I have business with Mr.Harley.Let me tell you: Mr.Harley, through his relative, Senator Hanway----" "You go to see the girl," interrupted the San Reve, and the sullen contralto was vibrant of danger.

"You go to see Miss Harley, not her father." "And if I do ?" Storri put his query blusteringly.
"You will marry her," went on the San Reve, who appeared to care as little for Storri's bluster as his kiss.
"I never promised to marry you." "I do not ask you to marry me.

I want neither your name nor your title.
But you promised me your love; I want that." The San Reve's tones were unruffled.

They did not lift or mount, and told only of passionate resolution.

"Storri, why did you bring me from Ottawa ?" "If it come to that," retorted Storri spitefully, "why did you leave Ottawa ?" "I left Ottawa for love," the San Reve replied, as though considering with herself.