"That doesn't matter now—nothing matters——"
"You mean—that you will forgive me?"
He leaned forward toward her, searching her face eagerly.
"Yes—yes," she whispered.
"Moira!"
"God help me! I've the need of you."
He fell to his knees beside the chair and took her in his arms. Her trouble was so great—the crisis in her life so tragic!
"I've tried to make myself believe I didn't care—," she went on, whispering, "that everything should be as it was before you came. I tried——"
"You poor child——"
"But in spite of myself—in spite of everything—my faith in you is just the same."