Becky was on her deathbed, with her husband Jake at her side. He held her
cold hand and tears silently streamed down his face. Her pale lips moved.
"Jake," she said. "Hush," he quickly inter- rupted, "don't talk." But she
insisted. "Jake," she said in her tired voice. "I have to talk. I must
confess." "There is nothing to confess," said the weeping Jake. "It's all
right. Everything's all right." "No, no. I must die in peace. I must
confess, Jake, that I have been unfaithful to you." Jake stroked her hand.
"Now Becky, don't be concerned. I know all about it," he sobbed. "Why else
would I poison you?"