She cowered before him.
"I guess my people live there. I don't want them to see me like this. I'll go anywhere else you say."
"Why don't you want to go back to San Francisco?"
"I've told you."
He leaned forward, staring at her, and his great, shining eyes seemed to try to bore into her soul. He gave a sudden gasp.
"The penitentiary."
She screamed, and then she fell at his feet, clasping his legs.
"Don't send me back there. I swear to you before God I'll be a good woman. I'll give all this up."
She burst into a torrent of confused supplication and the tears coursed down her painted cheeks. He leaned over her and, lifting her face, forced her to look at him.
"Is that it, the penitentiary?"