“I would do it all again,” he said in the absence of my denial. “I would run through fire and burn for you. I would lose arm and leg and limb. I’d do it all over, knowing what would happen to me, if it meant eventually having you as I do now. Milla, I don’t regret anything about you but this,” he spoke in a strained voice, as if holding back a river of temptation, “that now that I finally have you, I must give you up.”
