She threw the knitting down and flung her hands up. "I have no husband.
I have no child. Take your life. Take it. I will go and find his
body," she said, and she moved swiftly towards the door. "He has gone
down the river--I will find him!"
"He has gone up the river," he exclaimed. "Up the river, I say!"
She stopped short and looked at him blankly. Then his meaning became
clear to her.
"You did not kill him?" she asked scarce above a whisper.
"I let him go," he replied.
"You did not fight him--why?" There was scorn in her tone.
"And if I had killed him that way?" he asked with terrible logic, as he
thought.
"There was little chance of that," she replied scornfully, and steadied
herself against a chair; for, now that the suspense was over, she felt as
though she had been passed between stones which ground the strength out
of her.
A flush of fierce resentment crossed over his face. "It is not
everything to be big," he rejoined. "The greatest men in the world have
been small like me, but they have brought the giant things to their
feet."
She waved a hand disdainfully. "What are you going to do now?" she
asked.
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