“Haven’t you loved him?” he yelled, coming nearer to her, taking her two hands and squeezing them as in a vice.
She closed her eyes, as if face to face with death. Then she opened them wide, and replied simply—
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you run away from home for him, with him?”
She tried to free her hands, which were closed in his, but he did not let go. Again with simplicity, with loyalty, she had the courage to reply to the furious man—
“Yes.”
“There! there! Didn’t you adore him for three years?”
She tightened her lips, and bit them to conquer the pain of her tortured hands, and without a cry still replied—
“Yes.”
“And you still love him; you’ll always love him!” he cried, and in his anger this time there was mixed deep suffering.