"You leave that to me."
"What excuse'd I give her?"
"We'll fix that up to-morrow."
"Please don't make me do it, Mr. Dyker!"
"I've got to. What else can I do?—It's all your own fault. What's your address?"
She gave it to him tremulously.
"All right," he said. "I'll have a cab there for you to-morrow at five-thirty."
Her body shook with frightened sobs.
"Oh, Mr. Dyker," she repeated, "please don't make me do this! I'd do anythin', 'most, under the sun for you; but I can't face Miss Marian—honest to God, I can't."
What he should have done was to play upon her gratitude, but what he did do was again to allow his mistrust and anger to have their rein.