"It was all before I knew you--when I first came, when I was desperate, without a friend, without a cent! It was either that or--" She left the window abruptly, overcome by the mood, and returning, sat down, her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. "He is a gambler, a partner of my father's. He fell in love with me there at Gold Fields--you remember? When my father was killed, he sent me to school; he has always been kind, very kind. Wanted to marry me afterward, but I wouldn't hear of it. I ran away. I wanted to be young, to enjoy life, to live! He is very ugly, very old; his skin is all spotted and loose, and his eyes are watery and faded, and when he touches me I shiver." She raised her head, staring before her, drawing down the corners of her mouth. "I didn't see him again until--until I came here, and that was by accident. Everything had gone wrong! The company I had come with had failed; I could get nothing to do! It was very black. There were men, horrible men, offering me--you understand! I sold newspapers, in all kinds of weather, until ten or eleven at night sometimes, to get enough to eat! That's where he found me, under an umbrella on a street corner, in a pouring rain, a bundle of newspapers soaking under my arm. I was crying; I couldn't struggle any more! He took me to his home, a beautiful place just off Washington Square. He wanted me to marry him then. I can remember every word he said: "'I'm over sixty. I've lived hard. Two strokes--and the next will box me up. At the worst, girl, it'll only be four or five years and then seven hundred thousand coming to you!' "I don't know what I might have answered, but he put out his hand--wrinkled chalky hand! I can see it now--and touched mine. Ugh! But I made the bargain then and there, signed it in black and white. Three years to do as I please, and then--" "And the time is up precisely on the tenth of March?" he said, with a grim smile. "No! I have eight months more," she said, furious that he should not have been convinced by a story which had moved even her. "Who knows? He is very, very ill; it may all be over in a week!" All at once the true effect flashed into her imagination, she turned, seizing him by the coat violently, clinging to him, crying: "Oh, Your Honor, forgive me whatever I do these days! I haven't told you the truth. I'm not engaged--I'm married to him! And it's horrible--it is killing me! I don't know what I shall do. I think such wicked thoughts. I hope he'll never recover! Can you ever love me now?" His answer was effective. He swore a splendid, soul-easing oath, adding: "Dodo, if ever I'm fool enough to believe you, I deserve all I get!" She laughed through the tears which had come naturally. "So that's all you'll tell me!" he said roughly.