"And did you not come and tell me they would hang me unless I kept my mouth shut? And I lay all that dreadful night with the rope round my neck——"
"All in your dream. I'm sorry. It must have been terribly real to you."
"A dream?" and she stared wistfully into the fire, hex hands clasping and unclasping nervously. "If I could believe it!"
"You must believe what I tell you, and forget all about it and recover yourself."
"And you?" she said after a pause.
"I shall be all right. Don't trouble your head about me."
"If I did not do it," she said, after another long silent gazing into the fire, "then there would be no need for you to hate me——"
"No need whatever,—all part of that stupid dream."
"And ... sometime perhaps ... you would think better of me ... as you used to do. Oh,—Wulfrey! ..."
If it had all happened as he had almost persuaded her to believe, he might have fallen into his own pit.