"Come, come," Farwell implored her; "we will arouse suspicion. Let us get back to—to Boswell. I haven't much time, you see. I have promised Pine to be back in ten days. Ten days!"
"You promised—Pine?"
"And you never knew?" Farwell gave an ugly laugh. "Well, I carried the ball and chain without a whimper, I can say that for myself. Pine is my ball and chain. Because he isn't all devil, because he knows I am not, he went off to play on Wyland Island. You know they kill the devil there the second week in June. Have you forgotten? Well, Pine has gone to take a stab at satan, and I'm free—for ten days. Free!"
"And then?"
"And then I'm going back voluntarily, and—assume the ball and chain!"
"Master Farwell!"
"Do not pity me! It doesn't matter now. I only wanted to—settle with Boswell. I've been in town—three days."
They were nearing the big apartment house; lights from the windows were showing cheerily through the misty fog. A chill fear shook Priscilla as she began to comprehend the meaning of Farwell's words. In her life Boswell, and this man beside her, stood for friendship in its truest, highest sense, and she felt that she must hold them together in spite of everything. She stood still and gripped Farwell's arm.
"You—you shall not go to him," she whispered, "until you tell me—how you are to pay him—for what he has done!"
Farwell's white, grim face confronted her.