He had reached the door and the knob had turned under his hand when she gave a cry, between a sob and a plea. He swung quickly about.
“Don’t leave me, please!” she pleaded. “I mean, don’t go on my account.”
“But I seem to be disturbing you, and I don’t wish to do that,” he said kindly.
She broke down completely. “Oh, I do need you so much! Please stay! I’m afraid, afraid of everything, afraid of myself! You said one should keep a cool head, but I can’t! I can’t! I’ve tried so hard. Oh, Mack––Mr. McGowan, please help me!”
She finished her broken plea in muffled sobs in the folds of his coat. He drew her against him till his arms ached. She knew now that she could make of her love for this man no voluntary offering in order to save her father humiliation. All afternoon and evening she 335 had been forming that resolution. But this love that had come to her, pure and undefiled from the hand of God, could not be denied for the sins of one man, even though that man be her own father. She felt herself being swept out into an engulfing current, nor did she wish to stay its overwhelming power. For the first time that afternoon she was conscious of real strength.
Mr. McGowan tried to lift her face from his shoulder, but she clung the closer.
“I want to look at you,” he said jubilantly.
“Not just yet!” she sobbed. “I want to get used to this.”
“Then, let me hear you say you love me!” entreated the man.
“Mack McGowan, I love you!” She drew back a pace. “Now, you may look at me just once, though I don’t look like much with my eyes all swelled up and red.”