"I'd feel better if I did talk—if I could get it out of me."
"Then talk! What is it? Out with it!"
But the face was jerked quickly away with that motion of wishing to look in another direction.
Some nights there was delirium. Through the brain rolled clouds of fantasies:—
"... If I knew how it comes out between you and Mrs. Ousley...."
On these dark rolling clouds the father tried to throw a beam of peace: and it was no moment to hold back any of the truth:—
"It is all over!... There is nothing of it."
"I wish I had known it sooner: it bothered me...."
At another time more fantasies:—
"... Not on the cheek! You're no father of mine if it's on the cheek...."