Mary Roberts Rinehart

“ I've got too much at stake to be a judge of what to do.”
He went upstairs soon after that, leaving her still in her chair, swathed in furs, her round anxious face bent forward in thought. He had rarely seen her so troubled, so uncertain of her next move, and he surmised, knowing her, that her emotions were a complex of anxiety for himself with Elizabeth, of pity for David, and of the memory of Dick Livingstone's haggard face. ”

“ She perched herself on the arm of his chair, and ran her fingers over his hair. She was very fond of him, and she meant to be a good wife. If she ever thought of Dick Livingstone now it was in connection with her own reckless confession to Elizabeth. She had hated Elizabeth ever since.
“I'll take a hypothetical case. If you guess, you needn't say. Of course it's a great secret.”
She listened, nodding now and then. He used no names, and he said nothing of any crime.
“The point is this,” he finished. “Is it better to believe the man is dead, or to know that he is alive, but has cut himself off?” ”

“ Sayre had been in Chicago, that she had seen Dick there and talked to him. She turned the matter over in her mind, shrewdly calculating, planning her small revenge on Elizabeth even as she talked.
“I'd wait,” she advised him. “He may come back with them, and in that case David will know soon enough. Or he may refuse to, and that would kill him. He'd rather think him dead than that.” ”