For how else could he explain the throbbing of his brain, the heat of his blood, the undefined sense of full hours, charged, vibrant with pulsating mystery where once they had dragged in loneliness?
"I shot you," he said, slowly, "and I want you to get well so I shall not have killed a woman.

But--for your own sake, too--" A terrible bitterness darkened her eyes, and her lips quivered.
"Hush," said Venters.

"You've talked too much already." In her unutterable bitterness he saw a darkness of mood that could not have been caused by her present weak and feverish state.

She hated the life she had led, that she probably had been compelled to lead.

She had suffered some unforgivable wrong at the hands of Oldring.