Slyne was not beyond feeling somewhat ashamed of himself, but found easy solace in the reflection that all he had said was for her good as well as his own. He could see that his last brutal argument had struck home. For Sallie could no longer doubt, now, in the lurid light of her recent experiences, that Captain Dove looked upon her as a mere chattel, to be turned into cash as soon as occasion should offer.
In a little she looked up at him again out of pleading, desperate eyes. Some most unusual impulse of pity stirred him. She was only a young girl yet, and her helplessness spoke its own appeal, even to him. He made up his mind again, quite apart from any question of policy, to deal with her as generously as might be practicable.
"Will Captain Dove let me go now if I promise to marry you, Jasper?" she asked. And he nodded solemnly.
"And not unless I do?" she insisted. "You know I didn't—before, although you say I did."
"I swear to God, Sallie," he declared, "that I can't raise the money the Old Man wants any other way. And—I won't say another word about what's past and done with.
"If you'll really promise to marry me," he said eagerly, "I'll prove to you that all I have told you is true before you need even leave Captain Dove; I won't ask you to go a step farther with me until you're perfectly satisfied; I'll take you safely to your own home as soon as you are satisfied that you can trust me. And I won't ask you to keep your promise till—"
An irrepressible light of longing had leaped up behind the despair in her eyes.
"You say that all I must do in the meantime is to sign some papers," she interrupted. "You say you won't ask me to marry you right away. Will you wait—a year?"
"A year! I couldn't, Sallie!" he cried, and her pale lips drooped piteously again.
"How long, then?" she asked in a whisper. "Six months?"