"Where am
I?" she said.
He seated himself on the corner of a table that creaked loudly beneath
his weight. It seemed to her that he looked even more massive than
usual--a bed-rock of strength. His eyes met hers with a certain mastery.
"You are in a private room in a private hotel," he said. "I brought you
here."
"In a hotel!" She stared at him for a moment, stricken silent by the
information; then quickly she rose to her feet. "Oh, but I--I can't
stay!" she said. "I have no money."
"I know," said Mercer. He remained seated on the table edge, his hands
in his pockets, his eyes unwaveringly upon her. "That's where I come
in," he told her, with a touch of aggressiveness, as though he sighted
difficulties ahead. "I have money--plenty of it. And you are to make use
of it."
She stood motionless, gazing at him. His eyes never left her. She could
not quite fathom his look, but it was undoubtedly stern.
"Mr. Mercer," she said at last, rather piteously, "I--indeed I am
grateful to you, much more than grateful. But--I can't!"
"Rubbish!" said Mercer curtly. "If you weren't a girl, I should tell you
not to be a fool!"
She was clasping and unclasping her hands.
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