"I'm glad I know you, Donald; glad I found you out in time," she said, quietly, gazing hard at him.
"I thought you a friend," Millard retorted, bitterly. "Great Heavens, Daisy, if you had been on my side through thick and thin, in good report and ill, I could have defied all these idiots in Washington. What an ally you would have been! But you chose to be an enemy."
"An enemy to my country's enemies, yes," replied the girl, steadily.
"Do you hate me, Daisy?"
"I don't know," the girl answered, thoughtfully. "Do you hate me, now,
Donald Graves?"
"I wish I knew," uttered the man. "But it's hard to turn love like mine into hate at a moment's notice. Daisy, the nights are coming when you'll wake up with a frightened start, and sob as you remember how you turned me over to—"
"To the officers of the country that you have done your best to betray," broke in the girl, firmly. "No, no, Donald! Do not imagine that I shall shed any tears for you, seen or unseen. Mr. Benson, I am ready, if you wish to place—your—your—prisoner in the cab beside me."
"It seems like a beastly outrage to do it," muttered Jack, full of misgivings.
"Not at all," declared the girl, steadily. "I am glad to see this man on his way to the bar of justice."
Jack assisted Daisy Huston, with the utmost deference, to a seat inside the vehicle. Then he turned to motion to handcuffed Millard—or Graves—that he was to take the seat beside the woman he had hoped to make his wife.