"Heroics are all very well, Blanche," he said; "but self-preservation is
the first law of nature. Confession is the only avenue of escape, and I
have taken it. Besides, justice is justice. You deserve it. You goaded
me on. It was your fault from beginning to end."
"And you own, then, you are not the man who carried me off before?" said
Mollie. "You are not the man Mr. Rashleigh married?"
"I swear I'm not!" cried the doctor, with an earnestness there was no
mistaking. "And I'm very thankful I'm not. I wouldn't lead the life I've
led for the past two weeks for all the women alive. I'm glad you're
here, and that the whole thing is knocked in the head."
He spoke with the dogged recklessness of a man goaded to desperation.
Mollie turned again to her guardian and laid her face on his shoulder.
"Send that man away, guardy. His presence in the room turns me sick to
death."
"I am going, Miss Dane," said Dr. Oleander, turning moodily to the door,
"and I shall not go to Cuba. I shall not quit New York. Let you or your
guardian prosecute me if you dare!"
He stalked out with the last words.
Pages:
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358