“The more’s the pity,” said I. “But it’ll help me and it’ll make the world cleaner.”
Again I bent him back, till his eyes were starting and his back curved like a bow.
“For God’s sake, end it,” he whimpered.
“Ask in her name,” said I.
“For . . . her . . . sake.”
I broke his back.
Then I turned the wheels to the edge and started the engine up. . . .
The car came to rest finally about six hundred feet below the road—a battered blazing wreck.
For a moment I watched her burn, and, being human and very much in love with my dead wife, felt better than I had felt for many a month.
That was three days ago.