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Updated: May 3, 2025
Corray and her daughter still here?" I asked. "What name did you say?" "Corray." "Nobody of that name has been here." "I beg you will not trifle with me," I said petulantly. "You see that I am all right now; tell me the truth." "I give you my word," he replied with evident sincerity, "we have had no guests of that name." His words stupefied me.
Dorrimore I did not see him: the clerk in the Putnam House explained that a slight illness confined him to his rooms. That afternoon at the railway station I was surprised and made happy by the unexpected arrival of Miss Margaret Corray and her mother, from Oakland. This is not a love story.
I was myself in shadow, and stood still with clenched hands and set teeth, trying to control the impulse to leap upon and strangle him. A moment later a second figure joined him and clung to his arm. It was Margaret Corray! I cannot rightly relate what occurred.
I lay for a few moments in silence; then I asked: "Where is Dr. Dorrimore?" "He left on the morning of your fight and has not been heard of since. It was a rough deal he gave you." Such are the facts of this case. Margaret Corray is now my wife.
On one or two occasions when I saw Miss Corray walking with him I was furious, and once had the indiscretion to protest. Asked for reasons, I had none to give and fancied I saw in her expression a shade of contempt for the vagaries of a jealous mind. In time I grew morose and consciously disagreeable, and resolved in my madness to return to San Francisco the next day.
veils her sacred fires, And, unaware, Morality expires, famished upon the sifted meal and distilled water of a prudish purveyance. Let it suffice that Miss Corray and I were engaged in marriage. She and her mother went to the hotel at which I lived, and for two weeks I saw her daily.
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