"Oh, Billy, won't you leave him one shred?"

"No. Not one shred."

Yet, even now, if he could only be splendid--If he could only be it! Why
shouldn't Billy leave him one shred? After all, he didn't know all the
awful things John had done; and she would never tell him.... He did know
two things, the two things she didn't know. She had got to know them. The
desire that urged her to the completion of her knowledge pursued her now.
She would possess him in her mind if in no other way.

"Billy--do you remember that day at Melle, when John lost me? Did you
tell him I was going back with you?"

"No. I didn't."

Then he _had_ left her. And he had lied to both of them.

"Was the boy dead or alive when he left him?"

"He was alive all right. We could have saved him."

He had died--he had died of fright, then.

"You _said_ he was dead."

"I know I did. I lied."

"... And before that--when he was with you and Trixie on that
battlefield--Did he--"