She was providing still.
“Oh, Aggie—darling—don’t.”
“Why not? You ought to go to bed, because you’ll have to get up so early to-morrow morning.”
She closed her eyes, and he watched and waited through minutes that were hours. It seemed to him that it was another man than he who waited and watched. He was estranged from his former self, the virtuous, laborious self that he had once known, moving in its dull and desolate routine. Thoughts came to him, terrible, abominable thoughts that could never have occurred to it.
“Thoughts came to him, terrible thoughts”
“It would have been better,” said this new self, “if I had been unfaithful to her. That wouldn’t have killed her.”
As if she had heard him through some spiritual sense, she pressed his hand and answered him.
“Thank God,” she whispered, hoarsely, “that you’ve always loved me.”
She struggled with her voice for a moment; then it came, brave and clear.