“My flesh crawls at him! To be alone with such a monster—so terribly alone—I can’t tell you——!”
“Don’t distress yourself so!”
“I’m not—now. I’m relieving myself. I’ve got to talk, or my head will burst. The thing that keeps things in broke just now. I’ve got to talk. I suppose I’m putting it all off on you now.”
“I guess I can stand it,” he said grimly.
She asked very low: “Do you love me, Martin?”
“You know I do.”
“Yes, I know, but I had to make you say it, because I’ve got to tell you. I love you. I adore you. If loving you in my mind is wicked, I shall have to be a wicked woman. Oh, I’ll keep the law. From what I told you in the beginning, I must have already done some man a wrong. I shall not wrong another. But I had to tell you. You knew already, so it can do no great harm.”
He glanced back at Imbrie. “If the law should insist on keeping up such a horrible thing it would have to be defied,” he said—“even if I am a policeman!”
“I tell you he is not the man.”
“I hope you’re right.”