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I was your hired man. Just to see you through, from a distance, to know you were all right, and--and not to lose sight of you. I--of course you can't understand. I reckon no woman could. I don't wonder you're mad. I was dead sure you would be. Yet I had to stand for it." "It's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard," said Angela, working herself up to be as angry as she ought to be. "That you should have left New York, after being there only a few days, and--oh, it doesn't bear thinking of! And I'd rather not believe it." Again Nick wished to wave the name of Morehouse like a white flag of truce, but the San Franciscan lawyer, lying far away in a New York hospital, seemed too weak to flutter in the breeze of Mrs. May's displeasure. "I'd rather have jogged along without tellin' you this," he said. "But as things worked out, it seemed as if I had to speak." Angela was silent, busily thinking for a moment. "Would you leave the train at the next stop, if I asked you?" she inquired. "No. I'd be real sorry, but I wouldn't do that, even if you asked." And here was his chance to use Mr. Morehouse--a chance which might never come again. "I was going to tell you, I _do_ know a man who's acquainted with you, Mrs. May. We came East together. His name's Morehouse, and when he was taken sick, I went to see him, and--and had a little talk--all the nurses would let me have. I wanted him to write a note I could give you in New Orleans, but he wasn't strong enough. He did say I could mention his name when I told him I meant to go back West and look after you; but somehow it never seemed the right time in New Orleans. And now, when I began to explain how I inquired about you at the Valmont, as if it was from Morehouse, you didn't----" "I felt there could be no explanation I'd care to hear," Angela finished for him. "I beg your pardon! Still I don't see why you should take Mr. Morehouse's responsibilities on your shoulders--for my sake." "No, you'll never see that," Nick sighed. "Only, if you could just see your way to forgiving me, I should be mighty thankful. I promise to switch off till you send for me. I'm in the next car to yours, if you should need to--if there's anything I could do, between here and Los Angeles----" "How do you know my journey ends there? Did Mr. Morehouse tell you that, too?" "When he and I were travelling East, he said Mrs. May had the notion to see California; and I thought you'd be sure
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