“It's a frame-up,” he roared. He glared at the young man. “Tell your father it ain't true. Why, do you know what she is? She's done time.” He paused for an instant, then spoke in a voice that was brutally menacing. “And, by God, she'll do it again!”
The young man turned toward his bride. There was disbelief, hope, despair, in his face, which had grown older by years with the passing of the seconds.
“It's a lie, Mary,” he said. “Say it's a lie!” He seized her hand passionately.
There was no quiver in her voice as she answered. She drew her hand from his clasp, and spoke evenly.
“It's the truth.”
“It's the truth!” the young man repeated, incredulously.
“It is the truth,” Mary said, firmly. “I have served three years in prison.”
There was a silence of a minute that was like years. It was the father who broke it, and now his voice was become tremulous.
“I wanted to save you, Dick. That's why I came.”
The son interrupted him violently.