And then he would wake--to find Mavis bending over him, to hear her
saying, "My dearest, you are sleeping on your back, and it is making
you dream." He clung to her desperately, muttering, "Quite right, Mav.
Don't let me dream. It's a fullish trick--dreaming."
Then he would settle himself to sleep again, thinking, "It is all no
use. I love my wife; I bless her for the generous way in which she has
risked all that money to give me a fresh start; I enjoy the work; I
believe I may succeed with the business--but I shall never know real
peace of mind. And sooner or later my crime will be brought home to
me. It is always so. I've read it in the papers a dozen times.
Murderers never get off altogether. Years and years pass; but at last
justice overtakes them."
Already, although he did not recognize it, had come remorse for the
wickedness of his deed. He had no regret for the fact itself, and not
the slightest pity for the victim. Mr. Barradine had got no more than
he deserved, the only proper adequate punishment for his offenses; but
Dale knew that, according to the tenets of all religions, God does not
allow private individuals to mete out punishment, however well
deserved--especially not the death penalty.
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