He passed his hand across his face with a quick movement and brushed the tears from his cheeks.
“Remember, not a word. I haven't told her everything. I tried to, but I couldn't.”
“Tell her now, Garry,” cried Jack. “Now—to-night,” his voice rising on the last word. “Before you close your eyes. You never needed her help as you do now.”
“I can't—it would break her heart. Keep still!—that's her step.”
Corinne entered the room slowly and walked to Garry's chair.
“Baby's asleep now,” she said in a subdued voice, “and I'm going to take you to bed. You won't mind, Jack, will you? Come, dear,” and she slipped her hand under his arm to lift him from his chair.
Garry rose from his seat.
“All right,” he answered assuming his old cheerful tone, “I'll go. I AM tired, I guess, Cory, and bed's the best place for me. Good-night, old man,—give my love to Ruth,” and he followed his wife out of the room.
Jack waited until the two had turned to mount the stairs, caught a significant flash from Garry's dark eyes as a further reminder of his silence, and, opening the front door, closed it softly behind him.
Ruth was waiting for him. She had been walking the floor during the last half hour peering out now and then into the dark, with ears wide open for his step.