She could read his thoughts always, though he could never read hers. Moreover, he had ceased to act, and perhaps made no attempt to conceal the sense of relief that sounded with such a brutal plainness.
"But we can be friends, Dick—if you don't make it impossible. There must be shreds of our self-respect left. We can patch them together—if you don't tear them into smaller pieces."
"Oh, you're having it all your own way now."
"I'm bound to you; and I won't rebel—unless you drive me to despair. I'm your wife still." As she said it, a sob choked the last words, and tears suddenly filled her eyes. "I'm your wife still. I'll carry the chain—until you consent to break it."
"By Jove, you are on the high rope to-night."
"Now, about this money?" And she wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. "You've proved to me that you must have it. You've shown that you wouldn't shrink from any—from any ordeal in order to get it."
He looked round with reawakened interest.
"I do want it most damnably, or of course I wouldn't have asked you for it."
"Then for this once I suppose I must give it to you."
"Jane! Do you really mean it?"