"I mean—" here Thornton's eyes fell—"I mean the money," he stammered.
"I see!" Doris's voice trembled; then she hastened on: "The money you sent, George, has never been touched. I have waited for this hour."
"And your revenge!" muttered Thornton.
"I had not considered it in that light." A deep contempt throbbed in the words. "When I remember I am not bitter, but I am filled, anew, with a desire to save Meredith's child!"
"At the risk of passing her off as the child of—whom?"
And then Doris smiled—a long, strange smile that burnt its way into Thornton's consciousness.
"It was that doubt that saved, gave hope," she said, and quickly added, "I will tell you all there is to know, and then I request that you spare me another interview until you have come to a decision regarding—your child."
There was pitifully little to tell. A deserted mountain child!
"Who deserted it?" Thornton broke in.
"I did not ask. Sister Angela promised to find a home for it where no one would know of its sad birth—there are people willing to risk that much for a little child. I am!"