“Good sweet spies!”
“Spies! Those poor old darlings?”
“Oh, I say––really, now, you surely can’t have the face, the insolence, to––”
“I haven’t any insolence. I haven’t anything but a broken heart.”
“How many hearts were broken––how many hearts were stopped, do you suppose, because of your work?”
“My what?”
“I refer to the lives that you destroyed.”
“I––I destroyed lives? Which one of us is going mad?”
“Oh, come, now, you knew what you were doing. You were glad and proud for every poor fellow you killed.”
“It’s you, then, that are mad.” She stared at him in utter fear. She made a dash for the door. He prevented her. She fell back and looked to the window. He took her by the arm and twisted her into a chair. He had seen hysteria quelled by severity. He stood over her and spoke with all the sternness of his stern soul.