But there was anguish in the thought. His beautiful lady who loved him! That he who held her so dear, who only asked to protect her from pain and ill, that he should be the one to cast a slur upon her! But there was no way out of it.
He sobbed against his pillow.
And in the silence came the stammered, half-choked words, "Annette, Annette!"
But only the room heard them, which had heard the same appeal on a September night just a year ago.
CHAPTER XL
"Twice I have stood a beggar
Before the door of God."
Emily Dickenson.