She might return
to Mr. Blynn and accept his offer. The man in all his physical
horror rose before her. No, she could not do that. At least, not
yet. She could entertain the idea as a possibility now. She
remembered her wedding--the afternoon, the night. Yes, Blynn's
offer involved nothing so horrible as that--and she had lived
through that. It would be cowardice, treachery, to shrink from
anything that should prove necessary in doing the square thing
by the man who had done so much for her. She had said she would
die for Burlingham; she owed even that to him, if her death
would help him. Had she then meant nothing but mere lying words
of pretended gratitude? But Blynn was always there; something
else might turn up, and her dollar and eighty cents would last
another day or so, and the ten dollars were not due for six
days. No, she would not go to Blynn; she would wait, would take
his advice--"think it over."
A man was walking up and down the shaded alley, passing and
repassing the bench where she sat. She observed him, saw that he
was watching her. He was a young man--a very young man--of
middle height, strongly built. He had crisp, short dark hair, a
darkish skin, amiable blue-gray eyes, pleasing features. She
decided that he was of good family, was home from some college
on vacation. He was wearing a silk shirt, striped flannel
trousers, a thin serge coat of an attractive shade of blue.
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