“Yes, yes, this way—the old sweet way of love! I can’t let them take you—you’re mine now—I love you—I love you!—John, dear, he has big ugly handcuffs. He was going to put them on you—didn’t you see him?”—her voice faltered.
“Yes, I saw him.”
“I can’t stand it, John, I can’t—oh, dear, you don’t understand, and I can’t explain—You love me?”
“Better than life and deeper than death.”
“And yet you refuse my heart’s desire?”
“Only in this. I’m done with lawlessness. I’m not a coward. I’ve led a successful revolution. It had to be, and now with silent lips I’ll face my accusers.”
A hot tear fell on his hand.
“Come, dearest, you must help me,” he pleaded.
“Yes, yes, I will,” she faltered, brushing the tears away. “Come then, we will have this one little supper together, shall we not?”
“Yes. I want to look across that old table into your face again.”