“Well, Imogene, let’s not talk about that now,” he replied skeptically. “Not until we’ve attended to this other, anyhow. Certainly you owe me that much. You don’t know what my life’s been, either--one long up-hill fight. But you’d better come along with me just as you are, if you’re coming. Don’t go upstairs to get any hat--or to change your shoes. I’ll get a car here and you can come with me just as you are.” She looked at him simply, directly, beatenly. “All right, Ed, but I wish I knew how this is going to end. I can’t come back here after this, you know, if they find it out. I know I owe this to you, but, oh dear, I’m such a fool! Women always are where love is concerned, and I told myself I’d never let myself get in love any more, and now look at me!” They went off to the city together, to his office, to a notary, to the district attorney’s office--a great triumph. She confessed all, or nearly so, how she had formerly been employed by Mr. Swayne; how she had met Mr. Tilney there; how, later, after Swayne had fled, Tilney had employed her in various capacities, secretary, amanuensis, how she had come to look upon him as her protector; where and how she had met Mrs. Skelton, and how the latter, at Mr. Tilney’s request (she was not sure, only it was an order, she said) had engaged--commanded, rather--her to do this work, though what the compulsion was she refused to say, reserving it for a later date. She was afraid, she said. * * * * * Once he had this document in his possession, Gregory was overjoyed, and still he was doubtful of her. She asked him what now, what more, and he requested her to leave him at once and to remain away for a time until he had time to think and decide what else he wished to do. There could be nothing between them, not even friendship, he reassured her, unless he was fully convinced at some time or other that no harm could come to him--his wife, his campaign, or anything else. Time was to be the great factor.