"I married him," she moaned. "He's crazy!"
Garrison, too, sat down. His pistol he dropped in his pocket.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"I was afraid," she confessed. "I thought you wouldn't consent to be—to be—what you have been."
"Of course I wouldn't," Garrison responded. "What have I got myself into? Why did you do it?"
"I had to," she answered weakly. "Please don't scold me now—even if you have to desert me." Her voice broke in one convulsive sob, but she mastered herself sharply. "I'll go," she added, struggling to her feet. "I didn't mean to get you into all this——"
"Dorothy, sit down," he interrupted, rising instantly and placing his hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean it—didn't mean what I said. I shan't desert you. I love you—I love you, Dorothy!"
She turned one hurt look upon him, then sank on the desk to cover her face.
"Oh, don't, don't, don't!" she said. "You haven't any right——"
"Forgive me," he pleaded. "I didn't intend to let you know. I didn't intend to use my position for anything like that. Forgive me—forget what I said—and let me serve you as I have before, with no thought of anything but—earning the money, my fee."