"Jake, please--please wait a moment! I must--I must--Jake!"
He closed the door again and turned round, but he did not come back or even look at her. There was a hint of doggedness about him, almost as though he waited against his will.
She stood up. Something in his attitude made it difficult, painfully difficult, to speak. She strove for self-control. "You--are going to--to forgive me?" she said quiveringly.
He glanced up momentarily, a grim flicker as of a smile about his mouth. "For what you haven't done, and never could do? It would be mighty generous of me, wouldn't it?" he said.
She moved a step towards him. "I--might have done it. I--so nearly--did it," she said, in distress. "I don't deserve any kindness from you, Jake. I--don't know how to thank you for it."
He made a sharp gesture with one hand. "If I've given you more than bare justice," he said, "put it to my credit! Make allowance for me next time!"
Something rose in her throat. She stood for a moment battling with it. Bare justice! Had she ever given him so much as that? And he rewarded her with this blind generosity that would not even be aware of her sin.
Trembling, she drew nearer to him. She stretched out a quivering hand. "Jake," she said, and the tears were running down her face. "I--will try--to be worthy of your--goodness to me."
He took the hand, gripping it with a force that made her wince. "Shucks, my girl!" he said, with a gruffness oddly uncharacteristic of him. "That's nothing. Be worthy of yourself!"
And with that abruptly he let her go, turned and left her. She knew by the finality of his going that she would see him no more that night.