I've got to have you.
Now tell me you'll come with me."
"No, no, no," she pleaded.
"I can't.
I must work.
I want to work.
I don't want to do anything wrong.
Please don't ask me.
You mustn't.
You must let me go.
Really you must.
I can't do what you want."
"Tell me, Jennie," he said, changing the subject. "What does your father do?"
"He's a glass-blower."
"Here in Cleveland?"
"No, he works in Youngstown."
"Is your mother alive?"
"Yes, sir."
"You live with her?"
"Yes, sir."
He smiled at the "sir."
"Don't say 'sir' to me, sweet!" he pleaded in his gruff way. "And don't insist on the Mr. Kane.
I'm not 'mister' to you any more.
You belong to me, little girl, me."
And he pulled her close to him.
"Please don't, Mr. Kane," she pleaded.
"Oh, please don't.
I can't!
I can't!
You mustn't."
But he sealed her lips with his own.
"Listen to me, Jennie," he repeated, using his favorite expression.
"I tell you you belong to me.
I like you better every moment.
I haven't had a chance to know you.
I'm not going to give you up.
You've got to come to me eventually.
And I'm not going to have you working as a lady's maid.
You can't stay in that place except for a little while.
I'm going to take you somewhere else.
And I'm going to leave you some money, do you hear?
You have to take it."
At the word money she quailed and withdrew her hand.
"No, no, no!" she repeated.
"No, I won't take it."
"Yes, you will.
Give it to your mother.
I'm not trying to buy you.
I know what you think.
But I'm not.