"What about your stock in that Building Association!"
He laughed. "Swallowed up so long ago I'd forgotten I ever had any.... No, dear, I'm done. I took a long chance, and I took it once too often. Nothing for it but to serve out whatever term they give me, and then come back and—show 'em." His set jaw quivered a little.
"'Serve out'—Archie! You don't mean jail?"
He nodded, still with his amazing quietness. "I want to. It's coming to me. And I'm young yet. You'll see!... But that don't mean you're to be mixed up in it," he added, slowly. "When I go to the Pen, that lets you out, dear. You get your freedom. Nobody will expect you to—to stay married to a criminal."
He was watching her closely, and she stared back at him. He had proposed the monstrous idea seemingly in all seriousness, as if it were one to which he had given long consideration.
"Don't talk that way!" she said, with sudden sternness. "Of course you are not to go to jail. I'll fix that somehow—I'll get the money."
But still she could not go to him, could not offer him any comfort. She was too stunned. This did not seem to her Archie, this quiet stranger who spoke so casually of penitentiaries and criminals and divorce.
They were glad when people came to interrupt them.
And people did come, in a steady stream. It seemed as if half the town had read that hastily suppressed news-item, and were determined that Archie Blair should not go to prison.
"It's most worth while getting into trouble to see how many friends you've got you never knew about!" he sighed.