They turned away from each other and gazed in opposite directions. He was wondering, as he had through many agonized hours, just what motive was influencing Alma Marston in those later days. With all his soul he wanted to question Polly Candage—to get the light of her woman's instinct on his troubled affairs; but the nature of the secret he was hiding put effective stopper on his tongue.
“Under those circumstances, no matter what kind of a sacrifice she has made for you, you ought to accept it, Boyd.”
“I want to accept it; every impulse in me says to go in and grab. Polly, hell-fire is blazing inside of me. I want to tear them down—the whole of them. I do! You needn't jump! But if I use those papers which that girl has stolen from her father I'll be a dirty whelp. You know it, and I know it! Suppose you should tell me some secret about your own father so I could use it to cheat him out of his share of our partnership? You might mean all right, but after I had used it you would hate me! Now wouldn't you?”
“Perhaps—probably I wouldn't hate you,” she stammered. “But I'd think more of you if you—yes, I'm sure I'd think more of you if you didn't take advantage of my foolishness.”
“That's it, exactly! Any man, if I told him about this situation, would say that I'm a fool not to use every tool I can get hold of. But you understand better! I'm glad I came to talk with you. I have been dreadfully tempted. Your advice is keeping me straight!”
“I have not advised you, Boyd!”
“You don't need to use words! It's your instinct telling me what is right to do. You wouldn't think it was a square deal for me to use these papers, would you?”
“If you love her so much that you're willing to sacrifice yourself and your work and—”
“Say it, Polly! I'm sacrificing your father, too! It's for a notion—not much else!”
“No, it must be because you love her so much. You are afraid she will think less of you if you take advantage of her. I think your stand is noble, Boyd!”