Explore "The Scales of Justice" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
George Drummond stood in the corridor watching the movement of the slim hand on the casement. He had a feeling that he would wake presently and find that it was all a dream. And, with it all was the horrible feeling that perhaps he was doing something wrong. Was he taking part in some crime? he wondered. Was this girl using him, for some ignoble and unworthy end? Beyond doubt the hand clinging to the casement was that of the escaped convict, and Flora Cameron was anxious for his escape.
George stole a quick glance at the face of his companion, and his heart lifted. It was impossible to look at those features, and feel that anything wrong was being done here. The girl seemed to divine something of George's feelings, for she laid a trembling hand upon his arm.