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Dorgan had been doing some quick thinking. He leaned over and whispered quickly to Ogleby. "Why was she not discovered then when these detectives broke into the private house an act which they themselves will have to answer for when the time comes?" demanded Ogleby. It seemed as if the mere sound of his voice roused the girl. "Because it was dangerous to keep her there any longer," she replied.
Do you want to know what club I think you really belong to you who have involved one girl after another in the meshes of this devilish System? You belong to the Abduction Club that is what I would call it you you libertine!" Carton had sprung to his feet at the direct charge and was facing Ogleby. "Is that true about the Montmartre?" he demanded. Ogleby fairly sputtered.
Indeed, I suspect that it was the first time in years that the girl had had a really disinterested friend of either sex. I thought Ogleby visibly winced as he caught sight of Miss Seymour. He evidently had not expected her, and I thought that perhaps he had no relish for the recollection of the Montmartre which her presence suggested.
Perhaps you have tried to ease your conscience, if you have any, by the thought that it is they, not you, who have her hidden away somewhere now. You cannot escape that way; it was you who made her, who made others of us, what we are." "Let her rave, Ogleby," sneered Dorgan. "Yes raving, that's it," echoed Ogleby. But his expression belied him. "There it is," she continued.
And I wrote the first letter of all to the District Attorney. I wrote it for myself and signed it as I am God forgive me 'An Outcast." The poor girl, overwrought by the strain of the confession that laid bare her very soul, sank back in her chair and cried, as Miss Kendall gently tried to soothe her. Dorgan and Ogleby listened sullenly.
As Harris swung around she faced Ogleby in such a way that he could not avoid her, nor could she have possibly missed seeing him. For a moment their eyes met. Not a muscle in either face moved. It was as if they were perfect strangers. She turned and murmured something to her partner. Ogleby leaned over, without the least confusion, and made a witty remark to his partner. It was over in a minute.
"How can I? I hate Mr. Carton for for even knowing " she paused just in time to substitute Mr. Murtha for Mrs. Ogleby "such men as Mr. Murtha secretly." She bit her lip at thus betraying her feelings, but what she had seen had evidently affected her deeply. It was as though the feet of her idol had turned to clay. "Just think it over," urged Kennedy. "Don't be too harsh. Don't do anything rash.
As the wronged girl relaxed from her constant tension of watching, it seemed as if she fell into a stupor. Now and then she moaned feebly, and words, half-formed, seemed to come to her lips only to die away. Suddenly she seemed to have a vision more vivid than the rest. "No no Mr. Ogleby leave me.
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