"I am so sorry, Mr. Melvin," she said, slowly, with a catch in her breath as she spoke. "I seem to have done everything wrong, in this matter. I've made everybody unhappy." Again, she buried her face in her arms, and sobbed on, with even more abandon than before.
"My child," said the lawyer, "I've lived long enough in the world to discover that it is never wise to permit ourselves to be actuated by false motives. You will discover the truth of that statement, later on; you are only just beginning to realize it, now."
She made no reply to this, but a moment later she started to her feet, and again became the haughty, self-contained, relentless, Juno.
"Give me the pen," she said. "I will sign."
"If you will take my advice," replied the lawyer, without moving, "you will tear up those three documents, or direct me to do so, and leave things as they are."
"No," she replied. "I will sign."
"Very well, Patricia." He pushed the documents toward her, and watched her with a half-smile on his professional face, while she appended her signature to each of them. A moment later, he escorted her from the office, and assisted her into the waiting car. Then, he stood quite still and watched it as it carried her away from the business-section of the city. He shook his head and sighed, as he reëntered the building where his office was located.
"Poor child," he was thinking to himself; "she didn't tee-off well, in the beginning of this game, and she encountered the worst hazard of her life when she came up against her own unyielding pride. Poor child! So beautiful, so good, so tender of heart, she hides every real emotion she possesses behind an impenetrable barrier, barring the expressions of her natural affections with an icy shield which she permits no one to penetrate. For just a moment, she let me see her as she is; I wonder if she has ever permitted others." He got out of the elevator, and walked slowly toward his office-door, pausing midway along the corridor, and still thinking on, in the same fashion. "I must find a way to help her, somehow. Old Malcolm Melvin, whose heart is supposed to be like the parchments he works upon, must make himself the champion of this misguided girl. Ah, well, we shall see what can be done. We shall see; we shall see." He passed inside his office then, and in a moment more had forgotten, in the multitudinous affairs of his professional life, that such a person as Patricia Langdon existed.
That Monday, in the evening, at his rooms, Roderick Duncan received two letters. One was delivered by messenger; the other came by post. He recognized the handwriting on the envelope of each, and for a moment hesitated as to which of the two he should read first. One, he knew, was sent by Sally Gardner; the other was from Patricia.