He ran to her, clasped her close, laid his cheek on her head as she leaned against him feebly weeping. And what he said made it all right—it was his fault, he was ugly, but it was because of what she'd told him. That had riled him all up. Didn't she know every hurt that came to her made him mad as a she-bear when they're after its cub?
"Will you be back tomorrow?" she said when he started to go.
"Yes, in the morning. Eight be too early?"
"No—but—" her eyes were wistful, her hands reluctant to loose his.
"Will you have to leave the city soon?"
"I guess so, honey."
"Tomorrow?"
"Maybe—but we'll get a line on that in the morning."
"I wish you could stay, just for one day," she pleaded.
"I'll tell you then. What you want to do now is rest. Sleep tight and don't worry no more. It's going to be all right."
He gave her a kiss and from the doorway a farewell nod and smile.