He regarded her grief with compassionate softness. This came near disarming his resolve. He wanted to take her in his arms as he had never done in his life. As she held the wound close, he resisted the impulse to flinch.
“I’m all right, don’t you worry.”
He read the line on the boot.
“I wouldn’t take anything for that. It will sweeten the absence, and I hope this scratch will make a scar that I may wear all my life to remember you by.”
“I’ll never forgive myself for it—never!”
“Don’t say that. It’s a little thing after all. See, I walk all right. Let’s go home.” Putting one hand on her shoulder they started off, Esther watching every step he took with fear and alarm.
“Are you telling the truth. Don’t it hurt you to walk?”
Turning his face away, he bit his lips.
“Not much, you know there is always a little soreness, no matter how slight the cut.”
He wouldn’t tell that the knee was a very dangerous place to receive a wound.