“You owe me something!” he said.
“Owe—you something?” she repeated vaguely.
“Do you deny it?” he said.
“Oh, no, no!” she declared with emotion. “Not for a moment.”
“I want,” he said, “to give you an opportunity of repaying some portion of that debt!”
She raised her eyes to his. Her whispered words came so softly that they were almost inaudible.
“I am waiting,” she said. “Tell me what I can do!”
He commenced to speak at some length, very impassively, very deliberately.
“You will doubtless appreciate the fact,” he said, “that my position, today, is a somewhat peculiar one. I have had enough of solitude. I am rich! I desire to mix once more on equal terms amongst my fellows. And against that, I have the misfortune to be a convicted felon, who has spent the last ten or a dozen years amongst the scum of the earth, engaged in degrading tasks, and with no identity save a number. The position, as you will doubtless observe, is a difficult one.”
Her eyes fell from his. Once more she shivered, as though with physical pain. Something that was like a smile, only that it was cold and lifeless, flitted across his lips.