" "A word," cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his master's orders. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. Run away now, please. I want to be whatever I can to you. But I had to know for sure. But there is something in your voice that makes me distrust you. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. CHAPTER III.
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