"So do I. That's why I ask you to marry me."

"And I tell you I don't believe in marriage," she rejoined coolly.

"A magistrate can marry us----"

"It makes no difference. A ceremony, civil or religious, is entirely out of the question."

"You mean," he said, incensed, "that you refuse to be married by any law at all?"

"My own law is sufficient."

"Well--well, then," he stammered; "--what--what sort of procedure----"

"None."

"You're crazy," he said; "_you_ wouldn't do that!"

"If I were in love with you I'd not be afraid."

Her calm candour infuriated him:

"Do you imagine that you and I could ever get away with a situation like that!" he blazed out.

"Why do you become so irritable and excited, Jim? We're not going to try----"

"d.a.m.nation! I should think not!" he retorted, so violently that her mouth quivered. But she kept her head averted until the swift emotion was under control.

Then she said in a low voice: "If you really think me immoral, Jim, I can understand your manner toward me. Otherwise----"

"Palla, dear! Forgive me! I'm just worried sick----"

"You funny boy," she said with her quick, frank smile, "I didn't mean to worry you. Listen! It's all quite simple. I care for you very much indeed. I don't mind your--caressing--me--sometimes. But I'm not in love. I just care a lot for you.... But not nearly enough to love you."

"Palla, you're hopeless!"

"Why? Because I am so respectful toward love? Of course I am. A girl who believes as I do can't afford to make a mistake."

"Exactly," he said eagerly, "but under the law, if a mistake is made every woman has her remedy----"

"Her _remedy_! What do you mean? You can't pa.s.s one of those roses through the flame of that fire and still have your rose, can you?"

He was silent.

"And that's what happens under _your_ laws, as well as outside of them. No! I don't love you. Under your law I'd be afraid to marry you.

Under mine I'm deathly afraid.... Because--I know--that where love is there can be no fear."

"Is that your answer, Palla?"

"Yes, Jim."

CHAPTER IX

He had called her up the following morning from the office, and had told her that he thought he had better not see her for a while.

And she had answered with soft concern that he must do what he thought best without considering her.

What other answer he expected is uncertain; but her gentle acquiescence in his decision irritated him and he ended the conversation in a tone of boyish resentment.

To occupy his mind there was, that day, not only the usual office routine, but some extra business most annoying to Sharrow. For Angelo Puma had turned up again, as shiny and bland as ever, flashing his superb smile over clerk and stenographer impartially.

So Sharrow shunted him to Mr. Brooke, that sort of property being his specialty; and Brooke called in Shotwell.

"Go up town with that preposterous wop and settle this business one way or another, once for all," he whispered. "A crook named Skidder owns the property; but we can't do anything with him. The office is heartily sick of both Skidder and Puma; and Sharrow desires to be rid of them."

Then, very cordially, he introduced Puma to young Shotwell; and they took Puma's handsome car and went up town to see what could be done with the slippery owner of the property in question, who was now permanently located in New York.

On the way, Puma, smelling oppressively aromatic and looking conspicuously glossy as to hair, hat, and boots, also became effusively voluble. For he had instantly recognised Shotwell as the young man with whom that disturbingly pretty girl had been in consultation in Sharrow's offices; and his mind was now occupied with a new possibility as well as with the property which he so persistently desired to acquire.

"With me," he said in his animated, exotic way, and all creased with smiles, "my cinema business is not business alone! No! It is Art! It is the art hunger that ever urges me onward, not the desire for commercial gain. For me, beauty is ever first; the box-office last!

You understand, Mr. Shotwell? With me, art is supreme! Yes. And afterward my crust of bread."

"Well, then," said Jim, "I can't see why you don't pay this man Skidder what he asks for the property."

"I tell you why. I make it clear to you. For argument--Skidder he has ever the air of one who does not care to sell. It is an att.i.tude! I know! But he has that air. Well! I say to him, 'Mr. Skidder, I offer you--we say for argument, one dollar! Yes?' Well, he do not say yes or no. He do not say, 'I take a dollar and also one quarter. Or a dollar and a half. Or two dollars.' No. He squint and answer: 'I am not anxious to sell!' My G.o.d! What can one say? What can one do?"

"Perhaps," suggested Jim, "he really doesn't want to sell."

"Ah! That is not so. No. He is sly, Mr. Skidder, like there never has been in my experience a man more sly. What is it he desires? I ask. I do not know. But all the time he inquire about my business if it pays, and is there much money in it. Also, I hear, by channels, that he makes everywhere inquiries if the film business shall pay."

"Maybe he wants to try it himself."

"Also, that has occurred to me. But to him I say nothing. No. He is too sly. Me, I am all art and all heart. Me, I am frank like there never was a man in my business! But Skidder, he squint at me. My G.o.d, those eye! And I do not know what is in his thought."

"Well, Mr. Puma, what do you wish me to do? As I understand it, you are our client, and if I buy for you this Skidder property I shall look to you, of course, for my commission. Is that what you understand?"

"My G.o.d! Why should he not pay that commission if you are sufficiently obliging to buy from him his property?"

"It isn't done that way," explained Jim drily.

"You suppose you can buy me this property? Yes?"

"I don't know. Of course, I can buy anything for you if you'll pay enough."

"My G.o.d! I do not enjoy commercial business. No. I enjoy art. I enjoy qualities of the heart. I----" He looked at Jim out of his magnificent black eyes, touched his full lips with a perfumed handkerchief.