Now I am tired of it; whether you were prepared for this or not, I must tell you....

I don't ask you to release me.

I have been wronging you and acting against my conscience, and if you can forgive me I will try to make up for the ill I have done...." How much of this could he believe?
Gladly he would have fooled himself into believing it all, but the rational soul in him cast out credulity.
Every phrase of the letter was calculated for its impression.

And the very risk she had run, was not that too a matter of deliberate speculation?
She _might_ succeed in her design upon Narramore; if she failed, the 'poorer man was still to be counted upon, for she knew the extent of her power over him.

It was worth the endeavour.