"Say," he demanded, "are you afraid of me like you said you'd always been afraid of men ?" "Yes, I am.

I'm afraid of you a whole lot.

I don't know how you'll take it." "Take what ?" "Oh, anything--anything you're going to get." "Well, you don't seem to be afraid of me." "I am, more than any one." "Well, Sarah, you needn't be--no matter what you've done.

You just forget it and give me a good big--" "I'm glad I'm using my own face in this scene," murmured Sarah.
Down at the corner, waiting for his car, he paced back and forth in front of the bench with its terse message--"You furnish the girl, we furnish the house"-- Sarah was a funny little thing with all that nonsense about what he would find out.

Little he cared if she'd done something--forgery, murder, anything.
He paused in his stride and addressed the vacant bench: "Well, I've done my part.".