"But," continued Donaldson with emphasis, "that does n't make it any the less necessary. You 've got to pull what is left together—you 've got to play the man with what remains. You can't get all the punishment you deserve and so you 've got to deserve less. This, not for your own sake, but for the sake of the girl,—for the sake of the girl you struck."
"Don't!"
Arsdale quailed. He glanced up at Donaldson with a look that made the latter see again Barstow's dog Sandy as he had tottered in his death throes. But the mere fact that the man quivered back from this shameful thing was encouraging. It was upon this alone that Donaldson based his hope, upon this single drop of uncorrupted Arsdale blood which still nourished some tiny spot in the burned out brain.
"You must make such reparation as you can," continued Donaldson. "Your life is n't long enough to do it fully, but you can accomplish something towards it if you start at once."
Arsdale shook his head.
"It's all a beastly mess. It 's too late!"
Donaldson's lips tightened.
"Well," he asked, "if you are n't going to do what you can, what do you propose?"
Thickly Arsdale answered,
"I know a way; I 'm going to pull out for the sake of Elaine!"