Maybe you do feel like killing me; but I don't know what for.

I haven't the slightest notion of going back; there's nothing I could clear up, if I did go." Jean looked at him dumbly.

She supposed she should have to force him to go, after all.

Of course, you couldn't expect that a man who had committed a crime will admit it to the first questioner; you couldn't expect him to go back willingly and face the penalty.

She would have to use her gun; perhaps even call on Lite, since Lite had followed her.
She might have felt easier in her mind had she seen how Lite was standing just within the glass-paneled door behind the dimity curtain, listening to every word, and watching every expression on Art Osgood's face.