She was silent for a moment, and looked at him shyly.
"I shall feel a little bit lonely, I'm afraid," she confessed—"with none of my relatives, or friends. I hope you'll not be very long. Good-by."
"Good-by," said Garrison, who could not trust himself to approach the subject she had broached; and with his mind reverting to the subject of his personal worry in the case, he added: "By the way, the loss of your wedding certificate can be readily repaired if you'll tell me the name of the preacher, or the justice of the peace——"
"I'd rather not—just at present," she interrupted, in immediate agitation. "Good-night—I'll have to go in."
She fled up the steps, found the door ajar, and pushing it open, stood framed by the light for a moment, as she turned to look back where he was standing.
Only for a moment did she hover there, however.
He could not see her face as she saw his.
He could not know that a light of love and a mute appeal for forgiveness lay together in the momentary glance bestowed upon him.
Then she closed the door; and as one in a dream he slowly walked away.