"What is it, Edie?" he said.
She looked at him with loving eyes, and asked him as Maggie had asked, "Are you ill?"
He started. The question brought back to him vividly the scene of the night before; brought back to him Maggie with her love and fear.
"What is it? Tell me," she insisted.
He owned to headaches. She knew he often had them.
"It's not a bit of use," she said, "trying to deceive me. It's not headaches. It's Anne."
"Poor Anne. I think she's all right. After all, she's got the child, you know."
"Yes. She's got Peggy. If I could see you all right, too, I should die happy."
"Don't worry about me. I'm not worth it."
She gazed at him searchingly, confirmed in her intuition. That was the sort of thing poor Charlie used to say.