"Sit down," he said.
And they sat down on a bench beneath the naked branches of an oak.
"I was penniless, alone, and very weak. He wanted me even then. At first he did not want to marry me, but when I would not yield, he begged me to come back with him and secure a divorce. I think he was mad with passion."
She hesitated and glanced at him, but he was looking away.
"At last the end came. There was nothing else to do—and I wrote to you."
He moistened his lips as if they were parched from fever.
"Did you get the letter?"
"Yes," he answered, "I got it."
"And you did not answer?"
"What was there for me to say? You were free."