“Well?” he enquired. “What do you wish to say?”
“God knows—anything—just to ask you, perhaps, whether you’re right again. I have thought of you enough.”
He glanced at her curiously.
“Why have you come to this?”
“Why did you go to prison?” she retorted.
“I did wrong and was punished for it.”
“So did I. This is my punishment. After you had gone, I could have torn my heart out. I went on the drink—could n’t get engagements—went downhill. I can’t go much lower, can I? If you want revenge, you ’ve got it.”
She tossed her head in her old, defiant way. Joyce, perceiving her association of himself in her downfall, felt somewhat moved with pity.
“God knows, revenge is the last thing I want. On the contrary, I am distressed to see you come to this. If I could help you, I would do so. But that, you know as well as I, is out of my power.”
“Yes; the only thing you could do, would be to marry me and make an honest woman of me, and that is n’t likely,” she said, cynically.