Below, Mrs. Kingdon lingered to give some directions to a servant and Pen went on to the library.
Kurt was standing there alone. She stood small and straight before her warden, looking squarely into his eyes.
“You needn’t,” she said, “put any locks on valuables here—not on my account. The crookedest crook in the world wouldn’t steal from her.”
“I am glad you recognize a true woman,” he said earnestly.
“Thank you for bringing me here. I feel it’s the turning point in my life.”
“Then,” he said earnestly, “I feel I have done something worth while. You shall not leave here until—you see I am speaking plainly—you have overcome all desire to steal.”
“Not a severe penalty, O Sheriff Man!” she thought as she replied meekly: “To-night I feel as if I could never do anything wrong; but you know the strongest of us have our lapses.”
“I know that too well,” he said gravely, “but—you’ll try?”
“I’ll try. Good-night, Mr. Walters.”
In the doorway she paused and looked back. He was gazing meditatively into the flames of the open fire. She shook a little defiant fist at him and made a childish grimace, both of which actions were witnessed by Kingdon as he entered the room.