“D'you think they'll let me go, miss?”
“Oh, yes, I think so—I hope so!” But she could not meet his eyes, and hearing him grit his boot on the floor knew he had not believed her.
He said slowly:
“I never meant to do it when I went out that mornin'. It came on me sudden, lookin' at the straw.”
Nedda gave a little gasp. Could that man outside hear?
Tryst went on: “If they don't let me go, I won' stand it. 'Tis too much for a man. I can't sleep, I can't eat, nor nothin'. I won' stand it. It don' take long to die, if you put your mind to it.”
Feeling quite sick with pity, Nedda got up and stood beside him; and, moved by an uncontrollable impulse, she lifted one of his great hands and clasped it in both her own. “Oh, try and be brave and look forward! You're going to be ever so happy some day.”
He gave her a strange long stare.
“Yes, I'll be happy some day. Don' you never fret about me.”
And Nedda saw that the warder was standing in the doorway.