I'll come up another time." "No, I _must_ talk to you--now.

Come." Olva's voice was stern--his face white and hard.
"No--I won't." "You must.

I won't keep you long.

I have something to tell you." Craven suddenly ceased to struggle.

He gazed straight into Olva's eyes, and the look that he gave him was the strangest thing--something of terror, something of anger, a great wonder, and even--strangest of all!--a struggling affection.
"I'll come," he said.
In Olva's room he stood, a disturbed figure facing the imperturbability of the other man with restless eyes and hands that moved up and down against his coat.