Ruth Herrick's Assignment
had it. If anything but the life of a human being had been at stake, how proudly and gladly she would have gone to him, and how hard she would have tried to write the best story of her life, as he had ordered. But—this other woman at her feet. Something within the reporter asserted itself as counsel for her and pleaded and would not down. Ruth Herrick's voice seemed to her to come from a long distance when she at last spoke.
"Do you realize what all this means to you? Had you forgotten that you were talking to a reporter?"
The woman on the floor sat up and raised her face to the speaker's. It was deathly pale, but calm, and the mouth was firm. "I know," she half whispered. "I forgot. But it is just as well. I could not have endured it any longer. It was a great relief, and I am ready for—the end."
"But if you had not spoken you would probably be acquitted. Do you know that?"
"It does n't matter," repeated the other, wearily. "If I had not told you, I should probably have told the warden. My nerves
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