"You may outrage me as you will; you may take all that I
personally possess, but do not you care to say one single thing in
view of the situation that that will set up--against the faith that
makes me become the doormat for your feet."

But obviously, as I saw it, that could not be her meaning. Good
people, be they ever so diverse in creed, do not threaten each
other. So that I read Leonora's words to mean just no more than:
"It would be better if Florence said nothing at all against my
co-religionists, because it is a point that I am touchy about."

That was the hint that, accordingly, I conveyed to Florence when,
shortly afterwards, she and Edward came down from the tower.
And I want you to understand that, from that moment until after
Edward and the girl and Florence were all dead together, I had
never the remotest glimpse, not the shadow of a suspicion, that
there was anything wrong, as the saying is. For five minutes, then,
I entertained the possibility that Leonora might be jealous; but
there was never another flicker in that flame-like personality. How
in the world should I get it?

For, all that time, I was just a male sick nurse. And what chance
had I against those three hardened gamblers, who were all in
league to conceal their hands from me? What earthly chance?
They were three to one--and they made me happy. Oh God, they
made me so happy that I doubt if even paradise, that shall smooth
out all temporal wrongs, shall ever give me the like. And what
could they have done better, or what could they have done that
could have been worse? I don't know. . . .