"To be lonely! What is physical torture, if someone who loves you is nigh? But to be alone … as I am!… yes, and as you are! Oh, you haven't told me, but I can see with half an eye. You are my wife now and you belong to me. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. ” “For a little time,” she answered. Do you promise to do this?" "Solemnly," rejoined the carpenter. McClintock does it; and he knows why. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony.
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