that Bill meant to attack him. The muscles throughout him tugged and appeared to tighten, but Gregg kept himself down while he stood still, relaxed, before Bill.
"All right, Bill," he managed after a moment. "If that's what you want to believe, go to it." And he turned and went to the window where the shade had been left up; Billy did not follow him nor did Bill speak to him again. Bill went out and when Gregg felt the slam of the closed door, he shook and could not quickly check his shaking; for he knew he had lost Bill, since Bill would never forgive him and he realized that he had helped neither Bill nor Marjorie nor any one else.
And he went weak and sick with fear for Marjorie. Suppose Bill was right! Suppose she couldn't take care of herself—wherever she was. Suppose frightful, unthinkable things were happening to her this instant; or had happened; or would before—before what? He did not know what was to be the end. He had supposed that some day, soon, Marjorie would send for Bill and him; or at least let them know how she was and what she was doing. When she had not, did that mean she had got into more than she bargained and that Gregg's fears, after this combat with Bill, led him on and on into dismay. Then he began to get himself together; he should not have done more to prevent Marjorie, he argued with himself; she had been bound to do what she had and interference would have had the effect only of driving her to more desperate means, perhaps; she had been determined to discover and scrutinize life which she did not know, and she would come through safe, he believed; and the better and nobler and greater for it. But, could he be sure?
