A rosy flush crept slowly over her fair cheeks and neck.
"You shouldn't ask that, Mr. Hartley," she said, in some confusion. "But I will tell you. There is one other--but he has no right--I have promised him nothing."
"His name?" demanded Hartley, sternly.
"Townsend."
"Rafford Townsend!" exclaimed Hartley, with a grim tightening of his jaw. "How did that man come to know you? After all I've done for him--"
"His auto has just stopped below," said Vivienne, bending over the window-sill. "He's coming for his answer. Oh I don't know what to do!"
The bell in the flat kitchen whirred. Vivienne hurried to press the latch button.
"Stay here," said Hartley. "I will meet him in the hall.