"Oh, yes; I can trust you," she answered dully.
"Then, when?"
"I can't go with you, Stanley."
"Can't?" he repeated incredulously. "When I can feel your pulse leap when I touch your hand, when——"
"I love you with every breath I take," she cried low and passionately. She snatched her hands from his grip, wreathed them back of his head, drew his lips down upon hers. "I've never dreamed what it could be to love as I love you."
"Come with me," he said.
The wife looked about her like a trapped creature. "I've got to make him understand," she muttered to herself in travail of spirit. "I've got to make him see and—and help me. Stanley," she pleaded, "be kind to me and don't stop me till I've finished telling what I've got to tell."
She related the accident and its sequel in few and simple words. For a time of pulse-beats Wollaston was silent, then:
"Poor devil!" he murmured. "Poor, poor devil!"
"So, you see, dear love——"