"You can see me afterward. We'll do no talking till this business is finished."
"Why do you talk so? It won't be finished—it can't," she moaned.
"We'll attend to this without your help, my girl."
"You don't understand." Her voice fell to the lowest murmur. "He came here for me."
"For you-all?"
"Oh, don't you see? He brought me back here because he—cared for me." A tide of shame flushed her cheeks. Surely no girl had ever been so cruelly circumstanced that she must tell such things before a lover, who had not declared himself explicitly.
"Cared for you? As a wolf does for a lamb!"
"At first, maybe—but not afterward. Don't you see he was sorry? Everything shows that."
"And to show that he was sorry, he had poor Jesus Menendez killed!"
"No—he didn't know about that till I told him."