Hector frowned.
"I'm not a hypocrite, Lucy," he said slowly, "why should I pretend to care when I don't? I hated the fellow, so did you. Why this fuss then now?"
"Fuss, oh, my God, Hector, are you human, that you can talk of it like that?"
"I honestly don't understand you, Lucy, are you going to say now you wish the man back?"
"I'd give all I've got, Hector, for him to be alive again. I'd give even my sight, and there's nothing worse than blindness. Hate him, of course I hated him. I hate him now more than ever, because this afternoon was his fault. Oh, can't you understand it's not of him I'm thinking, but of you, Hector, you?"
"You think they—there'll be unpleasantness over this, Lucy? Well, if there is, I'm ready for it. They can't call you as a witness, though, that's one thing. A wife, you know——"
"I would insist on being called. I would force my way in."
Hector stared.
"You—you mean you'd give me away, Lucy? Jeanie Dean's conscience, eh?"
"And I'd lie and lie and lie! I'd go through hell for you, Hector, you can trust me, dear, not to fail you."