‘Have you any love for me left?’ burst from his lips, as if the words all but choked him in the utterance.
Amy tried to shape some evasive answer, but could say nothing.
‘Is there ever so small a hope that I might win some love from you again?’
‘If you wish me to come and live with you when you go to Croydon I will do so.’
‘But that is not answering me, Amy.’
‘It’s all I can say.’
‘Then you mean that you would sacrifice yourself out of—what? Out of pity for me, let us say.’
‘Do you wish to see Willie?’ asked Amy, instead of replying.
‘No. It is you I have come to see. The child is nothing to me, compared with you. It is you, who loved me, who became my wife—you only I care about. Tell me you will try to be as you used to be. Give me only that hope, Amy; I will ask nothing except that, now.’
‘I can’t say anything except that I will come to Croydon if you wish it.’