"I'm going with you," said Jerry quickly.
"No."
"Let him, Miss Habberton," I put in.
"I had better go alone."
"I forbid it," said Jerry. "The machine is at the upper gate. I'll drive you. Come."
She hesitated. Our glances met. I think she must have seen the eagerness in my face, the friendliness, the admiration. She read too the revolt in Jerry's eyes, the dawning of something like reason and of his grave sense of the injustice that had been done to her. He pleaded almost piteously—as though her acquiescence were the only sign he could have of her forgiveness.
"Very well," she said at last, "to the station, then."
"No," said Jerry firmly, "to town. I'm going to drive you to town. We've got to have a talk. We've got to—to clear this thing up."
She hesitated again and I think she felt the need of companionship at that moment.
"But your guests—"