"Are you able to come back into life again? Are you"—he hesitated—"are you happy?"
"No. But then I never was very happy. I can tell you this: I wouldn't exchange my prison experience for anything in my whole life. You gave me something, Mr. O'Bannon, when you sent me to prison, that no one else was ever able to give me, not even my father, though he tried. I mean a sense of the consequences of my own character. That's the only aspect of punishment that is of use to people."
His eyes lit up.
"You don't mean you're grateful to me!" he said.
"No, not grateful," she answered, and a little smile began to curve the corners of her mouth. "Not grateful to you, because, you see, I am going to return the obligation—to do the same kind deed to you."
"To me? I don't believe I understand."
"I don't believe you do. But be patient. You will. During my trial, I imagine—in fact I was told by your friends—that you took the position that you were treating me as you treated any criminal whose case you prosecuted."
"What other stand could I take?"
"Oh, officially none. But in your mind you must have known you had another motive. Some people think it was a young man's natural thirst for headlines, but I know—and I want you to know I know it—that it was your personal vindictiveness toward me."
"Don't say that!" he interrupted sharply.