“Why, yes,” Nancy said eagerly.  “You see, I’m only a secretary.  I’m not one of the heads of the Skandinavia.  I sort of feel this is high policy which doesn’t really concern me.  You’re sure you feel like telling me?  Was Mr. Peterman—­friendly?”

“As amiable as a tame—­shark.”

“That’s pretty fierce.”

Bull shook his head.

“It’s just a way of putting it.  Y’see even a tame shark don’t get over a lifetime habit of swallowing most things that come his way.  Peterman figures to swallow me—­whole.”

Nancy’s eyes widened.  But the man’s tone had been undisturbed.  There was a contented smile in his eyes, and an atmosphere of unruffled confidence about him that was rather inspiring.  The girl felt its influence.

“You mean he figures to have you join up with the Skandinavia?”

Bull shook his head as the waiter set the next course on the table.

“No.  He guesses the Skandinavia can buy me.”

“I—­see.”

Nancy waited.  She remembered this man was as ready to fight as to laugh.  Somehow she scented the battle in him now, for all the ease in his manner.

“I told him it couldn’t.  I pointed out if there was any buying to be done I figgered to do it.”

“You mean you would buy up—­the Skandinavia?”

Bull’s smile deepened.  The girl’s incredulity amused him.  He understood.  To her the Skandinavia Corporation was the beginning and end of all things.  In her eyes it was the last word in power and influence and wealth.  She knew nothing beyond—­the Skandinavia.  A man in her place would have received prompt and biting retort.  But she was a girl, and Bull was young, and strong, and at the beginning of a great manhood.  He shook his head.

“Well, not just that,” he said.  “But say, let’s get it right.  How’d a woman feel if she’d an elegant baby child, thoroughbred from the crown of his dandy bald head to the pretty pink soles of his feet?  Just a small bit of her, of her own creation.  Then along comes some big, swell woman, who’s only been able to raise a no account, sickly kid, an’ wants to buy up the first mother’s bit of sheer love.  Wouldn’t she hear the sort of things a woman of that sort ought to?  Wouldn’t she get hell raised with her?”

“But the Skandinavia’s no—­sickly kid.”

The girl’s eyes were challenging.  There was warmth, too, in her retort.  His words had stirred her as he intended them to stir her.

“You think that?” he said.  “You think that they have the right to demand my—­child?  You approve?  That was your desire when you came to me—­that they should buy me up?”

Bull’s smile still remained.  There was no shadow of change in it.  But his questions came in headlong succession.

Just for an instant a feeling of helplessness surged through the girl’s heart.  Then it passed, leaving her quite firm and decided.  She looked squarely into the smiling eyes, and hers were unsmiling but earnestly honest.