His voice became increasingly hoarse and sorrowful, "I kept saying Matthew Saxon isn't a good man, yet I'm not much better myself. I know no matter what, it's me who's let you down."
He had held these words in his heart for a very long time, finally having the chance to say them, yet he didn't feel any relief.
The familiar yet painful ache once again swept over him.
Henry Dales' face turned suddenly pale, and he turned around with great effort against the pain, taking several deep breaths, struggling hard to control his voice from trembling, "It's getting late, I should go back, and you shouldn't stay alone for too long."
After he finished speaking, he hurriedly walked toward the cashier.
"Sir, are you alright?" The cashier noticed his odd demeanor, startled by his face that was as pale as death.
