The tall doctor saw that his suspicion was unworthy and absurd. His was no simple choice between his friend's shameful cowardice, and this girl's criminal falsehood. No, Dal was crazy-drunk at the time, and himself cried out in his misery that the worst that they said of him was probably true. And even supposing that this girl was no more than a fiend in seraphic shape, what conceivable reason could she have for such infamous suppression? Motive was unimaginable.... No, the fault must be his own. He had pressed too hard, pried too tactlessly and inquisitively, not made her understand sufficiently the dire swiftness of the poor boy's need.... These two stood face to face. Carlisle saw that Jack Dalhousie's friend was becoming excited; but then, so was she. The man spoke first, in a low, hurried voice: "I don't mean to catechise--indeed, I don't. You must try to forgive me for the liberties I seem to be taking.... The thing's so serious, so pitiful. This story already flying around back in town--making him a base coward--he'll never live it down. And it's to-night or never, a--a misstatement travels so fast and far, and has so long a life--" "You should have reminded him of all this," said Carlisle, her rounded breast rising and falling, "before he got into my boat." "Oh, you have a right to say that! He's been wrong, insanely wrong! But does he deserve disgrace--ostracism--ruin? You alone stand between him and--" "I don't feel that it--it's right for me to be brought into it further. I've explained that. And I must ask--" "But you _are_ in it already, you see. Whatever anybody does or leaves undone, now and for the future--_you are in it_...." The enemy paused, gazing at her; and then suddenly, before she could make just the right opening to go past him, he abandoned restraint, and flung himself upon entreaties. "Couldn't you make a statement--just a little statement--saying that you feel certain he didn't know the boat was upset? that perhaps in the excitement you forgot to scream?--that you know he wouldn't have left you if he'd understood you were in trouble? Couldn't you at least give him the benefit of the doubt?--say or do something to show you've no bitter feeling toward him?--" "Did he show any regard for my feelings? I must ins--" "All the finer is your opportunity--_don't you see_?... Even strain the truth a little for him, if that's necessary. God," said the shabby young man, quite passionately, "would count it a virtue, I know, for it's now or never to save a man.... Couldn't you do that? I promise you you won't be bothered any more about it. I know how awfully hard it's all been for you. Couldn't you say _something_ to help him a little?" Miss Heth, facing him, imperceptibly hesitated.