a disembodied voice, like
himself, quick, strong and imperious. There were a dozen questions
which, over and over in imaginary interviews, I had asked him, all my
anxieties and wonders and terrors about him; why he had said those
first words of his to me in the police station; why he had encouraged
me so recklessly with my testimony, and then fled, and of all those
other puzzling inconsistencies in his behavior. But now that my
opportunity and he were both here there boiled up in my brain my
latest, most bitter perplexity of all, the one that had been presented
to me tonight, not a question but a confession. Before I realized what
I was saying I was telling him, very incoherently, how terribly I felt
about having had to give my evidence, and why it had seemed the only
thing to do. "But I know you do not think so," I said. "You think it
strange and cruel of me that I did not keep silent."

His voice sounded very calm, almost casual. "I think nothing of the
sort. You did quite right, and I am glad there is one woman who can
speak the truth."

This was utterly different from anything that I had ever expected!
"But," I stammered, "from the way you looked at me first when--when you
ran out at the door, and then again when, I had to tell them who you
were! I thought--"

I heard the sweep of his serape as he leaned forward toward me. "I
hated, for your own sake, that you should see anything so hideous.
When I came out of that door and saw you there on the other side of the
street, do you know what you seemed to me? You seemed to me like the
reminder of everything good I had ever hoped for or believed in,
looking at me across that distance, horrified at me. It was that I
could not bear." His voice sounded harsh and uncertain, but it was
better to hear than the even off-hand tone he had used at first.

"I hated to see you have to go through that sordid business in the
police station," he said, "hated to have you dragged through the court,
to think you had to touch such things, even to know that they exist. I
could not forgive myself! But what are you doing here alone at this
hour of the night?" He broke off suddenly. The half stern, half
protecting note made my heart beat.

"I was at a ball," I stammered. "I came away suddenly because--because
I couldn't bear it. I heard them talking behind the curtains. They
said it was I who had convicted you."

A touch came on my hand as if it had been the point of