THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
"I'm not defending myself. Besides"—a bit truculently—"it's my own business."
"Yes, a fine business! She'll notify the police. Your footprints in the snow will be traced to my door. Solid ivory! Your arm will be in a sling for days, if blood poisoning doesn't set in. When she sees you she won't have the slightest suspicion. She wouldn't have questioned your right to open that safe. You could have told her that you had forgotten it in the deal. You were thousands of miles away, and all that. She would have been glad to help you. And now you've balled up the whole thing."
"How?"
"The other night you told us that you loved her, or words to that effect. Her idea of truth and honor is a wonderful thing; and if she finds out what you have done, even if she returned your love, she will always look upon you with a kind of horror. A double horror. She'll always be picturing in her mind what would have happened if she had killed you. Oh, you've done a fine and noble thing! You ought to be locked up in a lunatic asylum. That you, Betty? Jim's hurt a little."
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