"My dear Pendleton," Lorraine exclaimed, "you don't think I would have made that request of you at the Hospital—to watch over Stephanie—to protect her from herself—if I had doubted you or ever should doubt you?"
"I shouldn't suppose so!" Pendleton answered.
Then he switched the conversation—it was too acutely personal—he was writhing under it. He would much have preferred to tell Lorraine the truth—and stand shamed. But he might not on Stephanie's account.
"I think I'll go in and telephone Cameron about the case, and ask him to look after it," said Lorraine. "It needs a lawyer. It would have been wiser, I admit, if I had had a lawyer from the start."
"Before it started," amended Pendleton.
"Will you be here this evening?"
Pendleton nodded.
"Then I'll ask him to talk it over with you also. I'm very tired. I think I'll go home presently, if you don't mind."
Pendleton wanted to take him by the shoulders and fling him into his car—anything to be rid of him.
"Not in the least," he replied—"I'll talk it over with Cameron."