"Well, I 've done my part, Avery. Now"—
"You have wrought a miracle," said the husband, with much emotion.
"Work you a greater, then!" commanded Dr. Thorne. He did not speak gently. But a certain entreaty in the attitude of the shaken man subdued him.
"With love all things are possible," persisted the physician in his other voice. "I have always said that she was not incurable. Now the difference is"—
Avery did not reply. It was not for the doctor to know what the difference was. That was for Jean ... only for Jean. He went back to his wife's room, and knelt beside her bed.
She seemed to have missed him, for she put out her hand wistfully; there was a touch of timidity in the motion, as if she were not sure that he would stay, or that he would be happy in staying; he perceived that she questioned herself whether she were an inconvenience to him. She tried to say something about ordering his breakfast, and to ask if she had kept him awake much. But Jean was very weak. She found it hard to talk. He remembered that she must not be agitated. He laid his cheek upon her hand, and hid his broken face.