Rodney knelt beside the bed, and took the fluttering hand, folding its feeble fingers within his own.
“It’s all right, Myrtie; don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll forgive everything, and I’m sorry if I ever drove you an inch on your road. It’s all right, poor girl. Go to sleep and take your rest.”
“Well, God bless you, Rod!” sighed Myrtle. “I’m going to sleep; pray I’ll rest.” Beside that bed for three hours Cis, Myrtle’s divorced husband, who at last realized that there was no divorce but the one Myrtle, slipping away, was giving him, and a Sister recited the prayers for a parting soul. At the first hour of the morning the soul quietly, with a few deep drawn breaths, parted.
Rodney went back to Nan’s in the taxi with Cis. They did not speak during the drive. But as Rodney opened the door for Cis with her pass key, he put out his hand and Cis laid hers in it without a word.
“I’m going to the hotel. To-morrow I’ll attend to things, then—May I see you, Cis?” Rodney asked.
“Yes. I’ll see you, Rodney—to say good-bye,” Cis answered.
“I’ve no right to complain of that,” Rodney said humbly. “You’re a good girl, Cis. Whatever had been, you would have been too good for me. I’m thankful to you, Cis, for to-night.”
“I’m thankful to God. Good night, Rodney,” said Cis.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE NEXT STEP
DURING the remnant of that night left for sleep Cis slept deeply, too tired in mind and body to be wakeful.