She hated that will had this effect on her. Hated it. She knew better. She knew what he thought of her. That she was worth nothing. And still a look from him could make her tremble with mingled hatred and longing. It was like poison in her blood, to which Jem was the only antidote.

Whither thou goest, I will go;Where thou diest, will I dieAnd there will I be buried:The Angel do so to me, and more also,If aught but death part thee and me.