“And when he comes, you’ll go back with him?”
“I might.”
“You will.”
“I might,” I repeated. “I don’t know. It depends what’s happened.”
She gripped my hand hard.
“Darling, please don’t go back. I didn’t think we would get away. When I was in that awful jail I thought I should never see you again. I thought they would catch you and you’d be hurt. But we did get away, and I have you with me. It would be wicked to put all this in danger again, wouldn’t it?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I have a job to finish. I like to dot my i’s and cross my t’s. It’s the way I’m made.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “No one’s made like that.” I am.
“Darling—don’t do this.” Her hands trembled in mine. “Let it go—please—this time…”
I shook my head slightly.