"Yes; but I thought he'd be killed; I thought he was a little insane. If he'd been well mentally and merely cruel and brutal I would have left him. But one can't abandon a helpless person."
"Every word you utter," he said, "forges a new link in my love for you."
"You don't mean—love?"
"We mean the same I think—differing only in degree."
"Thank you. That is nice of you."
He nodded, smiling to himself; then, graver:
"Is your little fortune quite gone, Strelsa?"
"All gone—all of it."
"I see.... And something has got to be done."
"You know it has.... And I'm old before my time—tired, worn out. I can't work—I have no heart, no courage. My heart and strength were burnt out; I haven't the will to struggle; I have no capacity to endure. What am I to do?"