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The Helpmate by May Sinclair
page 35 of 511 (06%)

"Well--will you tell her?"

"Of course I will."

"Make her see that I'm not necessarily an utter brute just because I----"

"I'll make her see everything."

"Forgive me for bothering you."

"Dear--forgive me for breaking my promise and deceiving you."

He bent to her weak arms.

"I believe," she whispered, "the end will yet justify the means."

"Oh--the end."

He didn't see it; but he was convinced that there could hardly be a worse
beginning.

He went upstairs, where Anne lay in the agonies of her bilious attack. He
found comfort, rather than gave it, by holding handkerchiefs steeped in
eau-de-Cologne to her forehead. It gratified him to find that she would
let him do it without shrinking from his touch.

But Anne was past that.


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