"And, Will--believe it or not--no woman ever loved a husband truer
than I loved you at that moment. To see you there so brave and strong
and good--and yet certain sure to ruin yourself! Well, I couldn't bear
it. And if it was to do again, I'd do it."
Slowly he withdrew his hands from her throat, and clasped them
together with all his strength. Turning for a moment, he glanced at
the open window. The space seemed to have contracted and darkened, so
that it looked black and small as a square grave cut out for a child.
But if not by the window, what other end to it all would he find? He
could not go on like this--with a to-morrow and a day after, and weeks
and months to follow.
He turned, and in speaking to her, unconsciously used her name.
"Could you think, Mavis, I cared for my job better'n my honor?"
"I thought you'd never know. And I loved you, Will--only you--no one
else."
He scarcely seemed to listen to the answer. He turned from her again;
and went on talking, as if to himself or the far-off stars, or the
invisible powers that mold men's destinies.
"'Aardn't I my fingers and brains--to work for you? Would I care--so's
you could be what I thought you were--whether I broke my back or burst
my heart in working for you? Besides, t'wouldn't 'a' bin that.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127