THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
"All right. I'll go over to that empty cot there. Wave your hand when you want me."
Armitage understood. Bordman wanted to tell him where and how he had hidden the money. He was glad now that he had forgiven. There was nothing now but infinite pity in his heart.
"Lean down," whispered Bordman.
Armitage did so.
"The girl in your house. . . . You love her?"
"Yes." But Armitage was startled.
"Real love?"
"From the bottom of my soul. But . . ."
"Beautiful, like a flower! Ah, she is beautiful! . . . I had tea with her one afternoon, and she was gentle and kind . . . beautiful . . . I have committed a crime, a terrible crime. Money has nothing to do with it. But God understands the least of us, and forgives. I know He has forgiven me . . . because you are here."
Silence. Armitage could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. A high, thin wail came from the maternity ward.
"I am . . . Hubert Athelstone. . . . Doris is my daughter!"
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