Horton unbound the handkerchief. The blood was oozing from a deep flesh cut below the elbow. With skilful fingers, he ripped open the sleeve and turned it back from the fair round arm. Then, with the appliances the country doctor has always at hand, he dressed the wound. When he had finished, Lilly drew the sleeve down and fastened it over the bandage.
Horton looked into her face. She was deadly pale, and her hands, which had touched his once or twice during the operation, were like ice.
"You are weak and unstrung. You have lost a great deal of blood. Sit down, Miss O'Connell."
She did so, and there was a little silence. The young man's nerves were still thrilling with the excitement of the last hour. For the moment, this girl—sitting there before him, this fair girl with her hard, cruel destiny—filled him completely.
"What are you going to do?" he asked, at length.
"Do?" she repeated. "Nothing."
"You will let this villain escape justice?" he said. "You will take no measures to protect yourself?"
Lilly raised her head. A look of intense bitterness swept across her face.
"I shall not do anything," she said. "Doctor Horton, you have always been good to me. As far back as I can remember, you have been my friend. I want you to promise me not to speak of what has happened to-night."