I thought of Dale and I felt miserably guilty, horribly ashamed.

How could I expect him to believe me when I told him that I had not wittingly stolen her affections from him.

And her affections?
_Bon Dieu_! What on earth could I do with them?
What is the use of a woman's love to a dead man?
And did I want it even for the tiny remainder of life?
Anastasius, perceiving that I paid but scant attention to his conversation, wriggled off his chair and stood before me with folded arms.
"You adore each other with a great passion," he said.

"She is my Madonna, and you are my friend and benefactor.

I will be your protection and defence.