A Cry in the Wilderness

by Mary E. Waller

"Take this, Marcia."

I obeyed. The bitter taste is even now, at times, on my tongue. Soon I was able to hear my own voice.

"Thank you." I felt his finger on my wrist.

"You are better now?"

"Yes." I passed my hand across my eyes to clear my sight. I heard a heavy long-drawn sigh from the man standing in front of me.

"Does he know?" was my first rational question.

"Ewart know? Marcia, Marcia—think what you are saying! Ewart is a gentleman—the soul of honor—"

"No, of course, he does n't. I did n't think.— Why have n't you told him instead of me?"

"Why? I tell you because you are a woman; because it is your right to withdraw from a situation that is untenable; you must be the first to know."

"I see; I am beginning to understand."