"What's that?"
"That it wasn't Nick—not my Nick—who did those things to me last night. It wasn't, Dr. Carl!"
"Pat, you're being a fool!"
"I know it. But I'm sure of it, Dr. Carl. I know Nick; I loved him, and I know he couldn't have done—that. Not the same gentle Nick that I had to beg to kiss me!"
"Pat," said the Doctor gently, "I'm a psychiatrist; it's my business to know all the rottenness that can hide in a human being. My office is the scene of a parade of misfits, failures, potential criminals, lunatics, and mental incompetents. It's a nasty, bitter side I see of life, but I know that side—and I tell you this fellow is dangerous!"
"Do you understand this, Dr. Carl?"
He reached over, taking her hand in his great palm with its long, curious delicate fingers. "I have my theory, Pat. The man's a sadist, a lover of cruelty, and there's enough masochism in any woman to make him terribly dangerous. I want your promise."
"About what?"
"I want you to promise never to see him again."
The girl turned serious eyes on his face; he noted with a shock of sympathy that they were filled with tears.