"Yes; that—that is bad enough, surely. I must have been crazy to ever consent. Even if the truth is never known I can no longer respect myself. But—but that is not all—we are actually criminals, engaged in a criminal plot. Because the plan was concocted by a lawyer makes no difference. We could be arrested, imprisoned."
"I supposed you understood."
"No doubt I did, but my brain was numbed; I could not comprehend. It was not your fault, but mine; I do not blame you. Only, must we go on?"
"We shall have to play out the game tonight, at least," I said, startled by her earnestness. "I will talk with Coombs, and will tell you the result tomorrow. Your nerves are all unstrung, and the affair may appear different by daylight."
She put her hand in mine, her eyes on my face.
"No; it is not my nerves. See, my hand does not tremble; I am not afraid physically. I 've simply come to myself; I 'm convinced we 're doing wrong."
"But you will wait until morning? until I have talked with Coombs?" I asked anxiously.
"Yes," after an instant's hesitation. "There is nothing else I can do."
The Texan got noisily to his feet, and swaggered across the floor.
"If you all hav' got through yer whisperin'," he said roughly, "I reckon Sally 's got ther grub laid out."