“Don’t desert me,” cried Watts, springing to his feet, and putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder, so as to prevent his progress to the door. “Don’t. She’s going to expose me. Think of the disgrace! My God, Peter, think—”
“Take your hand off my shoulder.”
“But Peter, think—”
“The time to think was before—not now, Watts. I will not concern myself in this.”
“But, old man. I can’t face it. It will kill Helen!”
Peter had already thrown aside the arm, and had taken a step towards the doorway. He stopped and turned. “She does not know?”
“Not a suspicion. And nothing but absolute proof will make her believe it. She worships me. Oh, Peter, save her! Save Leonore—if you won’t save me!”
“Can they be saved?”
“That’s what I want to know. Here—sit down, please! I’ll tell you all about it.”
Peter hesitated a moment, and then sat down.