"Yes, I am strong enough," he agreed, "but is she?"
"Why do you doubt her?" Sarah demanded. "What has she in her present life to lose, compared with what she gains from you—what she wants more than anything else in the world—love?"
He made no answer. The girl's words had thrilled him. Then the door swung open and Jimmy appeared, very pink and white, very immaculate, and looking rather more helpless than usual.
"I say, Sarah," he exclaimed, "it's no use! There's a most infernal block down in the courtyard. Chap wanted me to push the taxi out into the street. It's cost me all the loose change I've got to stop his sending for a policeman. We'll have to do a scoot."
Sarah sighed as her host arranged her cloak around her.
"Sorry we couldn't have stayed a little longer," she said. "Mr. Wingate was just getting most interesting."
"You'll have a drink before you go, Wilshaw?" Wingate insisted.
"Say when."
The young man accepted the whisky and soda and promptly disposed of it.
"Thanks, old chap! Frightfully sorry to rush away like this, but that fellow downstairs means business."
"Good night, Mr. Wingate," Sarah said, holding out her hand, "and thanks ever so much for the evening. You don't think I'm a forward little minx, do you?"