“I do indeed: I know it is hard. But you are generous. No, no, don’t turn your face away!”
George still sat silent. Neaera took his hand in hers.
“Ah, do!” she said.
George smiled,—at himself, not at Neaera.
“Well, don’t cry any more,” said he, “or the eyes will be red as well as dim.”
“You will, you will?” she whispered eagerly.
He nodded.
“Ah, you are good! God bless you, George: you are good!”
“No. I am only weak.”
Neaera swiftly bent and kissed his hand. “The hand that gives me life,” she said.