"Because," said I, "because———"
"Yes, dear, go on," she whispered.
I drew my hand away from hers. "Did you not hear that woman claim me as her husband?" I said.
But she only pressed the closer. I was in the very corner of the carriage now; I could retreat no farther. And, maybe, I was glad. I think I was.
"But that's no reason," she insisted. "You are not her husband."
"You believe that, dear?" I cried.
She put her arms about my neck and kissed me, almost fiercely, on the lips—then, suddenly, drew back and, with both hands pressed against my breast, she viewed me at arm's length.
"Believe it?" she said; "believe it? I never believed anything else."
I took her hands and reverently touched them to my forehead—then, held them tight.
"After all these years, God would not send you to me just to mock my prayers," she added.