I don't care,” I cried, “now. I don't care. Damn the whole system of things! Damn all this patching of the irrevocable! I want to take care of you, Isabel! and have you with me.”
“I can't stand it,” she blubbered.
“You needn't stand it. I thought it was best for you.... I thought indeed it was best for you. I thought even you wanted it like that.”
“Couldn't I live alone—as I meant to do?”
“No,” I said, “you couldn't. You're not strong enough. I've thought of that; I've got to shelter you.”
“And I want you,” I went on. “I'm not strong enough—I can't stand life without you.”
She stopped weeping, she made a great effort to control herself, and looked at me steadfastly for a moment. “I was going to kill myself,” she whispered. “I was going to kill myself quietly—somehow.