"You might say that of a machine—a dead thing from the start. You can't say it of a human being, who's alive from the beginning. See?"
"No, I don't see."
"And I don't know that I can explain. I'm only sure that a machine can be done for, and that a human being can't be. You can come to a time when it's no use doing anything more for the one; but you can never reach such a time with the other. With him, you may make mistakes or you may do him a great wrong, but you can't stop trying to put things right again."
"And you think you can put things right again for me?"
"I don't know what I can do. I haven't an idea. Very likely I can't do anything at all. I merely came back from South America to do what I could."
"Did you feel that you had to—because you'd married Jennie?"
"That was a reason. It wasn't the only one."
"What else was there?"
"I'm not sure that I can tell you. A lot of the things we do we do not from reason, but from instinct. But if you don't want me to try to take a hand—"
Under the dark streaks that blotted out what had once been Teddy's healthy coloring, a slow flush began to mantle.