“Yes,” he urged. “Yes—”
“If I—”
He saw her struggle and fail.
“Yes, I know— I understand,” he cried, quickly, as she grew heavier in his arms. “If you get well I will go. I swear to do that. I will go away. No one will ever know— no one— in the whole world. And I will be good to you— and care for you—”
He stopped, brushed back her hair, and looked into her face. Then he carried her into the inner room; and when he came out little Isobel was crying.
“You poor little kid,” he cried, and caught her up in his arms. “You poor little—”
The child smiled at him through her tears, and Billy suddenly sat down on the edge of the table.
“You’ve been a little brick from the beginning, and you’re going to keep it up, little one,” he said, taking her pretty face between his two big hands. “You’ve got to be good, for we’re going to have a— a—” He turned away, and finished under his breath. “We’re going to have a devil of a time!”