“I'm not coming to trouble you,” he said. “I've forgiven him, and I'm forgiving you, too.”
“You are very good,” she answered nervously.
“Good?” He gave a crack of bitter laughter. “I meant to kill him—that's how good I am. And it's the same as if all the devils out of hell had been at me the night through to do it still. Maybe I hadn't much to forgive. I'm like a bat in the light—I'm not knowing where I am ezactly. Daresay the people will laugh at me when they're getting to know. Wouldn't trust, but they'll think me a poor-spirited cur, anyway. Let them—there's never much pity for the dog that's licked.”
His voice shook, although so hard and so husky. “That's not what I came to say, though. You'll be laving this place soon, and I'm wanting to ask—I'm wanting to know——”
She had covered her face, and now she said through her hands, “Do as you like with me, Pete. You are my husband, and I must obey.”
He looked down at her for a moment. “But you cannot love me?”
“I have deceived you, and whatever you tell me to do I will do it.”
“But you cannot love me?”
“I'll be a good wife for the future* Pete—I will, indeed, indeed I will.”
“But you cannot love me?”