"Where?" She turned to look at him. "Are you going back to that hotel?" And, as he made no reply: "Do you wish to become a murderer, too?" she said tremulously. "I have your pistol. I ask you not to go back there."
After a moment he said: "No, I won't go back. . . . Where is the pistol?"
"You shall not have it."
"I think perhaps it would be safer with me."
"No!"
"Very well."
"And—I—I ask you to keep away from that man!" She grew unconsciously dramatic. "I ask you—if you have any memory which you hold sacred—to promise me on that memory not to—to——"
"I won't shoot him," he said, watching her curiously. "Is that what you mean?"
"Y-yes."
"Then I promise—on my most sacred memory—the memory of a young girl who saved me from committing—what I meant to do. . . . And I thank her very deeply."