She stopped and looked at Dunston, a long, lingering look, that sent the blood to his face. It was not an appeal; it was nothing save the woman love in her, mingled with desperation.
"I intended to leave the bank in a little while," she went on. "Not immediately, because I was afraid that would attract attention, but after a few weeks. And then, too, I wanted to get forever out of sight of this man," and she indicated Dunston.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I loved you as no woman ever loved a man before," she said, "and I was not worthy. There was another reason, too--I am married already. This man, Gustave Meyer, is my husband."
She paused and fumbled nervously at the veil fastening at her throat. Silence lay over the room; The Thinking Machine reached behind him and picked up the shabby-looking gripsack which had passed unnoticed.
"Are there any more questions?" the girl asked, at last.
"I think not," said The Thinking Machine.
"And, Mr. Dunston, you will give me credit for some good, won't you--some good in that I loved you?" she pleaded.
"My God!" he exclaimed in a sudden burst of feeling.
"Look out!" shouted The Thinking Machine.