"Yes, I'll forgive you—everything—if you'll promise me one thing, which will make me very happy."
He bit his lip savagely—I think he guessed my meaning—but he did not hesitate.
"Name it," he said shortly.
"Don't hurt Lillian any more about the change in her appearance or object to her having her child with her," I pleaded.
He thought a long minute, then with a quick gesture he caught my uninjured hand in his, carried it to his lips, and kissed it, then laid it gently back upon the bed again.
"Done," he said gruffly. "It won't bother me much for awhile anyway. Your friend Gordon, wants me to go with him on a long trip to South America. I'm the original white-haired boy with him just now for some reason or other, and it's just the chance I have wanted to look up the theatrical situation down there. Perhaps I can persuade the old boy to loosen up on some of his bank roll and play angel. But anyway I'm going to be gone quite a stretch, and when I come back I'll try to be a reformed character. But remember, wherever I am 'me art is true to Poll.'"
He bowed mockingly with his old manner, and walked toward the door, meeting Lillian as she came in.
"So long, Lil," he said carelessly. "I'm going for a long walk. See you later."
She looked at him searchingly. "All right," she answered laconically, and then came over to me.
"Mr. Gordon will be here in a half-hour," she said. "Please try to rest a little before he comes."