But I liked you to make the stone; that's why I like you, because nobody else put up a stone for her." Caius laid a cool hand on the feverish one she was now brandishing at him.
"You are dying, you say"-- pityingly.

"It is better for you to think that your baby is dead, for when you die you will go to her." The woman laughed, not harshly, but happily.
"She isn't dead.

She came back to me once.

She was grown a big girl, and had a wedding-ring on her hand.

Who do you think she was married to?
I thought perhaps it was you." The repetition of this old question came from her lips so suddenly that Caius dropped her hand and stepped back a pace.