“There is just one thing left.”  He lowered his voice until it almost sank into a hoarse whisper.  “I must cut loose.  I have scraped together what I can and I have borrowed on my life insurance.  Here on the table is all that I can spare.

“To-night, the last night, I have worked frantically in a vain hope that something, some way would at last turn up.  It has not.  There is no other way out.  In despair I have put this off until the last moment.  But I have thought of nothing else for a week.  Good God, Constance, I have reached the mental state where even intoxicants fail to intoxicate.”

He dropped back again into the deep chair and sank his head again on his hands.  He groaned as he thought of the agony of packing a bag and slinking for the Western express through the crowds at the railroad terminal.

Still Constance was silent.  Through her mind was running the single thought that she had misjudged him.  There had been no other woman in the case.  As he spoke, there came flooding into her heart the sudden realization of the truth.  He had done it for her.

It was a rude and bitter awakening after the past months when the increased income, with no questions asked, had made her feel that they were advancing.  She passed her hands over her eyes, but there it was still, not a dream but a harsh reality.  If she could only have gone back and undone it!  But what was done, was done, She was amazed at herself.  It was not horror of the deed that sent an icy shudder over her.  It was horror of exposure.

He had done it for her.  Over and over again that thought raced through her mind.  She steeled herself at last to speak.  She hardly knew what was in her own mind, what the conflicting, surging emotions of her own heart meant.

“And so, you are leaving me what is left, leaving me in disgrace, and you are going to do the best you can to get away safely.  You want me to tell one last lie for you.”

There was an unnatural hollowness in her voice which he did not understand, but which out him to the quick.  He had killed love.  He was alone.  He knew it.  With a final effort he tried to moisten his parched lips to answer.  At last, in a husky voice, he managed to say, “Yes.”

But with all his power of will he could not look at her.

“Carlton Dunlap,” she cried, leaning both hands for support on the table, bending over and at last forcing him to look her in the eyes, “do you know what I think of you?  I think you are a damned coward.  There!”

Instead of tears and recriminations, instead of the conventional “How could you do it?” instead of burning denunciation of him for ruining her life, he read something else in her face.  What was it?

“Coward?” he repeated slowly.  “What would you have me do—­take you with me?”

She tossed her head contemptuously.

“Stay and face it?” he hazarded again.

“Is there no other way?” she asked, still leaning forward with her eyes fixed on his.  “Think!  Is there no way that you could avoid discovery just for a time?  Carlton, you—­we are cornered.  Is there no desperate chance?”