"Only one," she answered, hesitatingly, "a particular kind the doctor had not prescribed, but which he persisted in taking to relieve his pain."
"He asked for it?"
"Yes. He was suffering horribly. He begged me to give it to him. I couldn't resist his pleading."
"You didn't love him, Nan?" he went on evenly.
"You know that, Jim."
"You had wished him dead a thousand times?"
"Why do you talk so queerly? Why do you ask me such questions. Surely you——"
"And you were jealous of Harriet Woodman?"
"No! No! What could put such a thing into your head?"
"You saw in the Sunday papers, the day before his death, the sketch of Harriet's life and the fact that she was going to sing abroad?"