"You are a good generous creature," he said, in a confused hasty way. "Let us talk of something else."
"No!" I answered. "I am too deeply interested in knowing the truth to talk of anything else."
His color changed again at that. His face flushed; he gave a heavy sigh as one does sometimes, when one is making a great effort.
"You will have it?" he said.
"I will have it?"
He rose again. The nearer he was to telling me all that he had kept concealed from me thus far, the harder it seemed to be to him to say the first words.
"Do you mind walking on again?" he asked.
I silently rose on my side, and put my arm in his. We walked on slowly towards the end of the pier. Arrived there, he stood still, and spoke those hard first words—looking out over the broad blue waters: not looking at me.
"I won't ask you to take anything for granted, on my assertion only," he began. "The woman's own words, the woman's own actions, shall prove her guilty."
I interrupted him by a question.