"She cried because you were not there to see her married."
He was fully half a minute in grasping the full meaning of that wonderful sentence.
"Did she?" he asked, lifting his head suddenly. "Honest, Mary? You're not saying it just to—to make me feel—"
He stopped and waited for her to reply to his unuttered question. She shook her head.
"Then she does care a little for me. She hasn't lost all the feeling she used to have—"
"She cried because she was not given a chance to talk with you. She thought she could comfort you, could help you. That was why she cried, Tom."
He allowed his chin to rest in his hands, his elbows on his knees.
"I wonder if I could have—Oh, say, there's no use talking," he ended bitterly.
"What were you about to say, Tom?"
"Nothing."