"No! Oh, no!" She whispered the words through tears. "I gave in—willingly. I thought it was better than—an empty life."
"Ah!" The word fell like a groan. "And that's what you're going to condemn me to, is it?"
She turned in his arms, summoning her strength. "We've got to play the game," she said. "I've got to keep my word—whatever it costs. And you—you are going to keep yours."
"My word?" he questioned, swiftly.
"Yes." She lifted her head. "If—if you really care about being honest—if your love is worth—anything at all—that is the only way. You promised—you promised—to save him."
"Save him for you?" he said.
"Yes—save him for me." She did not know how she uttered the words, but somehow they were spoken.
They went into a silence that wrung her soul, and it cost her every atom of her strength not to recall them.
Bill Warden stood quite motionless for many pulsing seconds, then—very, very slowly—at length his hold began to slacken.
In the end he set her on her feet—and she was free. "All right, little new chum!" he said, and she heard a new note in his voice—a note that waked in her a wild impulse to spring back into his arms and cling to him—and cling to him. "I'll do it—for you—if it kills me—just to show you—little girl—just to show you—what my love for you is really worth."