There was not much confidence in his tone or manner. As the girl lowered her gaze, he looked at her hungrily; his eyes feasted on the coils of dark 196 hair, her long, black lashes, the curve of her cheek and her delicate color, the full, ruby lips, and the small, quivering chin. She was in the throes of a strong emotion.
“I’m sorry, Laura, if––you didn’t want me to come,” he said unsteadily.
“Oh, Roger! Of course we want you to come. It’s been so long since we saw you. And you’ve––you’ve gone through so much.”
She raised her eyes, and the expression which he saw in their depths caused him to look away and to bite his lips.
“There’s a lot of it I wish I could undo, Laura; an’ there’s a lot more of it I couldn’t help, an’ maybe some I––I––wasn’t–––” He paused. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything in extenuation of himself and his acts in the presence of this girl. It might sound as if he were playing for her sympathy, he thought to himself.
“Roger, I know you haven’t done all the things I’ve heard about,” she said bravely. “And there’s always a chance. You’re a man. You can find a way out. If the trails seem all twisted and tangled, you can use a compass––your own conscience, Roger. You still have that.”
“How did you happen to mention the trails bein’ all mixed up like that?” he asked curiously.
“Why––I don’t know. Isn’t that the way it seems?”
Rathburn looked away with a frown. “You come near hittin’ the nail on the head, Laura.”
“Oh, then you are beginning to think!” she said eagerly.