He can't get away from it. By Gad, we've got
him at last!"
Jeff found Nellie wrapped in his bathrobe in the big chair before
the gas log. Her own wet clothes were out of sight behind a
screen.
"You locked the door when you went out," she charged.
"Some of my friends might have dropped in to see me," he explained
with his disarming smile.
But he could see in her eyes the unreasoning fear of a child that
has been badly hurt. He had locked the door on the outside. She
was going to be dragged home whether she wanted to go or not.
Dread of that hour was heavy on her soul. Jeff knew the choice
must be hers, not his. He spoke quietly.
"You're not a prisoner, of course. You may go whenever you like. I
would have no right to keep you. But you will hurt me very much if
you go before morning."
"Where will you stay?" she asked.
"I'll sleep on the lounge in this room," he answered in his most
matter of fact voice.
While he busied himself preparing a toddy for her she began to
tell brokenly, by snatches, the story of her wanderings. She had
gone to Portland and had found work in a department store at the
notion counter. After three weeks she had lost her place.
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