'Not much; but some men understand,' she said.
Her voice caught lightly on a broken note,
Jimmy half-dared but dared not touch her hand,
Yet all his blood went pumping in his throat
Beside the beauty he could understand,
And Death stopped knitting at the muffling band.
'The shroud is done,' he muttered, 'toe to chin.'
He snapped the ends, and tucked his needles in.
Jimmy, half stammering, choked, 'Has any man----'
He stopped, she shook her head to answer 'No.'