Gilman felt a little sick himself. This always happened. Maybe not for this reason, but they were always disgusted with him. He tried so hard, and it was never enough. His face twisted into a scowl and he went to stand in the doorway to the bathroom, watching her.
"You would have never known if I'd been able to just kill her properly," Gilman said, "You would've kept on loving me, and it wouldn't matter. So you know the truth -- so what? I'm still me, Annie. I'm still the man you married."
He jerked a thumb behind him.
"That corpse out there is a billion dollar prototype, more or less," he said, "Do you know how rich I'll be? How rich we'll be if I can perfect it? How can you sneer at me like I'm a monster when I brought a human being back to life!?"
At some point, he'd gone from apologetic begging to megalomania ranting. His eyes were feverish.