“Not if you can do them good by dying.”
“Supposing he 's dead,” asked Herold,—clean direct souls can ask each other such questions,—“what will you do?”
Her grip grew fierce as she turned up to him her snub-nosed little cockney face. “There 'll be no need for me to kill myself. I 'll die all right. Don't make any mistake about that.”
“But supposing he is alive, and supposing the barrier were removed—I mean, supposing the woman—you know whom—were no longer there, and he married—what would you do?”
“What would you?”
“I?”
“You don't think you can fool me,” said Unity. “You love Miss Stella as much as he does.”
“How do you know?”
Unity flung her hand to the outer air. “How do I know that's an omnibus?”
“You 're right, my dear, I do love her. You 're one of the few human beings in this world who know what love means, and I 've told you what I 've told to no one living. But if she married John to-morrow, I would strangle everything wrong in me and devote my life to watching over their happiness.”