"It is nothing," said Griggs. "There is no such thing as forgiveness in my world. How could there be? I resent nothing."
"But then, if you do not resent what he did, you have forgiven him. Have you not?"
"I suppose so." He was puzzled.
"Will you not say it?" she pleaded.
"Willingly," he answered. "I forgive him. I remember nothing against him."
"Thank you. You are a good man."
He shook his head gravely, but he took her outstretched hand and pressed it gently.
"Thank you," she repeated, withdrawing hers. "Do not think it strange that I should ask such a thing. It means a great deal to me. I could not bear to think that he had left an enemy in the world and was gone where he could not ask forgiveness for what he had done. So I asked it of you, for him. I know that he would have wished me to. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Griggs, thoughtfully. "I understand."
Again there was silence for a long time as they stood there. The tears dried upon the woman's sweet pale face, and a soft light came where the tears had been.