‘He thinks I love you?’ he said.
‘Oh yes.’
She began to beat her head again.
‘Stop—how can you—for God’s sake, stop!’ he was at her side, trying to draw her from the cruel wood.
‘I believe you love me as much as he did at first,’ she said—he was offering her a handkerchief for the little bleeding wound on her head, and had to look at her—‘Don’t you?’
‘My God, no,’ he burst out, ‘what are you dreaming of?’
‘Oh, but you do,’ she cried, and laughed again.
He had moved her from the wall and she [p 157] ]could not beat her head. She got up from her knees, and went nearer to him.
‘I wish you would take me away,’ she said.
‘Remember you have a husband,’ he answered, very coldly.