“It’s easy to say that now, but to what purpose? Think about it.” He looked every inch a broken
man, the face scarred, the eyes a dark stain. “No one knew the truth but Julia, and she was dead. Who
would believe me if I claimed adultery as my defense? You’ve seen the trials same as me, the
desperate men willing to lie and squirm and barter their souls for the barest chance of a decent
verdict. My testimony would look like a string of self-serving, calculated lies. And what could I
possibly get from it? Not sympathy or dignity or reasonable doubt. I’d open myself to crossexamination and look even guiltier by the end of it. No, I stared down that road more than once,
thinking about it. I’d humiliate Catherine and get nothing for it. Julia was dead. Bringing up the
relationship could only hurt me.”
“No one saw you together?”
“Not in that way. No.”
“No letters? Voice mails?”
“We were very careful. I couldn’t prove the affair if I wanted to.”
Elizabeth plucked at the edges. “It’s all very convenient.”
Elizabeth plucked at the edges mean?
It’s all very convenient mean?