Jake was on his deathbed while his wife, Becky, maintained a steady vigil by his side. As she held his fragile hand, her warm tears ran silently down her face, splashed onto his, and roused him from his slumber¹. He looked up and his pale lips began to quiver with sound.

"My darling Becky," he whispered.

"Hush², my love," she said. "Go back to sleep Shhh! Don't talk."

But he was insistent³. "Becky," he said in his tired voice. "I have to talk. I have something I must confess to you."

"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Becky. "It's all right. Everything's all right, go to sleep now."

"No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I slept with your sister, your best friend and our next door neighbor."

Becky mustered⁴ a pained smile and stroked his hand. "Hush now Jake, don't torment⁵ yourself. I know all about it," she said. "Why do you think I poisoned you?"