"He has not." The contradiction slipped from Kathleen with more vehemence
than she intended. Spencer brightened. In endeavoring to convince
herself, she had thoroughly convinced him.

"You are not engaged to him?" he asked eagerly.

"Certainly not." Kathleen crimsoned with indignation. How dared Sinclair
Spencer catechise her! "I must insist that you leave. And, Mr. Spencer,
please remember, I desire that you never again allude to your proposal of
marriage."

"But I shall," doggedly.

"Then our acquaintance will cease." Her manner even more than her words
roused Spencer to sudden wrath.

"No, it won't," he retorted. "And I will make you--understand--make you
reconsider your refusal to marry me. Good morning," and without a
backward look he departed.

Kathleen drew a long breath of relief as the front door closed behind
him. "Thank God, he's gone," she said aloud, unconscious that her words
were overheard. "He is insufferable. I cannot understand why father ever
encouraged him to come to the house."

Rapid walking soon brought Spencer to the corner of Seventeenth and H
Streets, and hailing a taxicab he gave the chauffeur an address on
Nineteenth Street. Fifteen minutes later he was ushered into the presence
of Baron Frederic von Fincke.