He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. She felt her skills make a belated return. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. ” “Did it hurt when we did it?” His voice rose, inflamed with worry. At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music. Then he put the paper by. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. She led him up the long hall solemnly. "He knows he had to take it.
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