“A good deal has happened, Bess. I don’t need to tell you what. And I’m played out. Worn out in mind more than body.”
“Dear—you look strange to me!” faltered Bess.
“Never mind that. I’m all right. There’s nothing for you to be scared about. Things are going to turn out just as we have planned. As soon as I’m rested we’ll make a break to get out of the country. Only now, right now, I must know the truth about you.”
“Truth about me?” echoed Bess, shrinkingly. She seemed to be casting back into her mind for a forgotten key. Venters himself, as he saw her, received a pang.
“Yes—the truth. Bess, don’t misunderstand. I haven’t changed that way. I love you still. I’ll love you more afterward. Life will be just as sweet—sweeter to us. We’ll be—be married as soon as ever we can. We’ll be happy—but there’s a devil in me. A perverse, jealous devil! Then I’ve queer fancies. I forgot for a long time. Now all those fiendish little whispers of doubt and faith and fear and hope come torturing me again. I’ve got to kill them with the truth.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she replied, frankly.
“Then by Heaven! we’ll have it over and done with!... Bess—did Oldring love you?”
“Certainly he did.”
“Did—did you love him?”
“Of course. I told you so.”