The Lonely Lady by Harold Robbins

tried to rape my daughter,’ or to Mr. Daley and tell him that his daughter is a liar.”
    “No,” Carson said thoughtfully.
    “Meanwhile that poor boy is going to lose his job.”
    “Ordinarily I wouldn’t say this but I think it might be better for all concerned if you followed Mrs. Randall’s advice and just let the matter slide. As an officer of the bank, you must realize that Mr. Thornton maintains huge balances here and that Mr. Daley, as a home builder, steers us a tremendous amount of business. Something like this could very well lead them to place their business elsewhere.”
    “That would be stupid.”
    “Of course it would,” Carson said smoothly. “But you know customers. We’ve lost them for flimsier reasons. And these two are very important to us.”
    “But what about the boy?”
    “I’ll have a quiet talk with Corcoran at the club and see what I can do.” Carson got to his feet and came around the desk, placing his hand on John’s shoulder. “I know how you feel, but take my word for it. There are some things that are better left unspoken. The boy is only here for a few weeks anyway. But we have to continue to live in this town.”
    John didn’t answer.
    Carson dropped his hand from John’s shoulder. His voice took on a more businesslike tone. “By the way, I’ve heard via the grapevine that the state bank examiners might be paying us a surprise visit. I’d like you to review all the accounts just to make sure that everything’s in tiptop order.”
    John got to his feet. “I’ll get on it right away, Mr. Carson.”
    “Good,” Carson said. “The main thing is that your daughter is all right. Don’t worry about anything else. Things have a way of working themselves out.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Carson,” John said. He went back to his desk and sat down, a strange futility in him. Carson would do nothing. He knew that. It had all been spelled out very clearly. The bank’s business was the primary consideration. As usual.
    It took Mrs. Daley only four days to get Fred fired.

Chapter 13
    JeriLee was sitting on the porch when Dr. Baker came up the walk. He thought as he looked at her that the healing powers of the young never ceased to amaze him. The swelling around her nose had almost gone, and the puffy black and blue under her eyes had vanished completely. “I didn’t expect to find you out here,” he said.
    “I got tired of staying in my room.”
    He came up the steps. “How are you feeling?”
    “Much better. Will I have any scars on my…?” She didn’t finish the question.
    “No. You’ll have white marks where you were burned for a while, but eventually they’ll blend in and disappear.”
    “Good,” she said in a relieved tone. “I was beginning to worry. They looked so bad.”
    “You are getting better.” He laughed. It was good to see her vanity returning. “Come inside and let me have a look at you.”
    They went up to her room. She undressed quickly without self-consciousness and wrapped a towel around her. He put his reflector on even though he really didn’t need it. He felt somehow that it made his examination seem more professional. She stretched out on the bed while he removed the dressings. Carefully he wiped away the ointment and studied the burns. After a moment he nodded with satisfaction. “You’re doing okay. I think we can leave the dressings off now. Just don’t wear anything that will be irritating.”
    “You mean brassiere?”
    He nodded.
    “I can’t do that.”
    “Why not? No one can see anything under your blouse.”
    “That’s not it,” she said. “I bounce too much. It’s embarrassing.”
    He laughed. “Walk slower, it will be all right.” He got to his feet. “I don’t have to come here anymore. Suppose you come down to my office in about a week and we’ll see how you are getting on.”
    “Okay,” she said, sitting up. “Can I go back to work?”
    “Do you want to?”
    “Yes.”
    “You might run into those boys out