Gordon snarled, and stretched out his hand a second time; but the younger man raised his fist and struck.  Once, twice, again and again he flung his bony knuckles into that purple, distorted face, which he loathed as a thing unclean.  He battered down the big man’s guard:  right and left he rained blows, stepping forward as his victim fell back.  Gordon reeled, he pawed wildly, he swung his arms, but they encountered nothing.  Yet he was a heavy man, and, although half stunned by the sudden onslaught, he managed to retain his feet until he brought up against the heavy mahogany reading-table in the center of the room.  His retreat ended there; another blow and his knees buckled, his arms sagged.  Then Dan summoned all his strength and swung.  Gordon groaned, lurched forward, and sprawled upon the warm red velvet carpet, face down, with his limbs twisted under him.

His vanquisher stood over him for an instant, then turned upon Natalie a face that was now keen and cruel and predatory.

“Come!  We’ll be married to-day,” he said; and, crossing swiftly, he took her two hands in his.  His voice was harsh and imperative.  “He’s down and out, so don’t be frightened.  Now hurry!  I’ve had enough of this damned nonsense.”

“I—­I’m not frightened,” she said, dazedly.  “But—­I—­” Her eyes roved past him as if in quest of something.

“Here!  This’ll do for a wrap.”  Dan whipped his fur overcoat from a chair and flung it about her.  “My hat, too!” He crushed his gray Stetson over her dark hair and, slipping his arm about her shoulders, urged her toward the hall.

“Mother!  She’ll never—­”

“We’ll call on her together.  I’ll do the talking for both of us.”  He jerked the front door open with a force that threatened to wrench it from its hinges and thrust his companion out into the bracing cold.  Then, as Gordon’s Japanese butler came running from the rear of the house, he turned.

“Hey, you!” he cried, sharply.  “The boss has gone on a little visit.  Don’t stumble over him.  And tell Mrs. Gordon that Mr. and Mrs. Appleton will call on her in a few days—­Mr. and Mrs. Dan Appleton, of Omar!”

It was but a few steps to the pier; Dan felt that he was treading on air, for the fierce, unreasoning joy of possession was surging through his veins.  His old indecision and doubt was gone, and the men he met recoiled before his hostile glance, staring after him in bewilderment.

But as he lifted Natalie down into the launch he felt her shaking violently, and of a sudden his selfish exultation gave way to a tender solicitude.

“There, there!” he said, gently.  “Don’t cry, honey.  It’s all right.  It’s all right!”

She raised her face to his, and his head swam, for he saw that she was radiant.

“I’m not crying; I’m laughing.  I—­I’m mad—­insane with happiness.”

He crushed her to him, he buried his face in her neck, mumbling her name over and over:  and neither of them knew that he was rapturously kissing the coonskin collar of his own greatcoat.  The launchman, motor crank in hand, paused, staring; he was still open-mouthed when Dan, catching sight of him, shouted: