She leaned towards him. She was sitting by his bed.
"No," she said, speaking under her breath. "I came because--because it
was the only way out--for us both."
"What?" he said, and the old impatient frown drew his forehead. "You
came to see me die, then?"
"I came," she answered, "to try and make you live."
He drew a breath that was a groan.
"You won't succeed," he said.
"Why not?" she asked.
Again feverishly he moved his head, and she smoothed his pillow afresh
with hands that trembled.
"Don't touch me!" he said sharply. "What was Curtis dreaming of to bring
you here?"
"Mr. Curtis couldn't help it," she answered, with more assurance. "I
came." And then after a moment, "Are you--sorry--I came?"
"Yes," he muttered.
"Oh, why?" she said.
"I would sooner die--without you looking on," he said, forcing out his
words through set teeth.
"Oh, why?" she said again. "Don't you believe--can't you believe--that I
want you to live?"
"No," he groaned.
"Not if I swear it?" she asked, her voice sunk very low.
"No!" He flung the word with something of his ancient ferocity. She was
torturing him past endurance. He even madly hoped that he could scare
her away.
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