"Believe it or not, as you like," he retorted.
"People say there is some secret in your life," she said. "I believe there is. And I believe it was her secret too."
He lunged forward again, in a fresh paroxysm of fury.
"What is it to you?" he cried shrilly—"or to any one? Why do you pry? Suppose I have my secrets. They are no concern of yours. I give away my money—my life. Isn't it enough? What would you be—what would any of them be now—but for me? I work day and night for others. Can't I keep my soul to myself?"
"Jim," she said gently, "I'm not prying. I don't want to know your secrets. I only wanted to make it lighter for you, if you'd let me."
"You can't make it lighter for me," he returned. "No one can make it lighter. I don't want to be interfered with. I want to be left alone. What right have you to try to judge me?"
"Judge you?" she echoed. "Who could want to judge you? Why, you are the noblest man in all the world. No one could do more good than you do. Every man, woman, and child here worships you, and would die for you."
His anger instantly subsided.
"Ah, yes!" he said greedily—"tell me that. That's what I want to hear. Tell me they worship me—that no one could do more good than I do—that men and women would die for me. Go on telling me that!"
Her voice thrilled with her love for him.