“I did it for love of you,” he said. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. What you say is probably all true and necessary. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be. And Ann Veronica walked beside him, trying in vain to soften her heart to him by the thought of how she had ill-used him, and all the time, as her feet and mind grew weary together, rejoicing more and more that at the cost of this one interminable walk she escaped the prospect of—what was it?—“Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights” in his company. It's public opinion. Annabel, I was lying.
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