He is a big helpless child, Sam, and he
is old. He hasn't much longer to live. Do not be hard, Sam. Be merciful."
Her voice did not tremble but tears ran down her rigid face and her
expressive hands clutched at her dress.
"Can nothing change you? Must you always have your own way?" she added,
still refusing to look at him.
"It is not true, Sue, that I always want my own way, and people do change
me; you have changed me," he said.
She shook her head.
"No, I have not changed you. I found you hungry for something and you
thought I could feed it. I gave you an idea that you took hold of and made
your own. I do not know where I got it, from some book or hearing some one
talk, I suppose. But it belonged to you. You built it and fostered it in
me and coloured it with your own personality. It is your idea to-day. It
means more to you than all this firearms trust that the papers are full
of."
She turned to look at him, and put out her hand and laid it in his.
"I have not been brave," she said. "I am standing in your way. I have had
a hope that we would get back to each other. I should have freed you but I
hadn't the courage, I hadn't the courage. I could not give up the dream
that some day you would really take me back to you.
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