"Of course I will."
"Make her see that I'm not necessarily an utter brute just because I——"
"I'll make her see everything."
"Forgive me for bothering you."
"Dear—forgive me for breaking my promise and deceiving you."
He bent to her weak arms.
"I believe," she whispered, "the end will yet justify the means."
"Oh—the end."
He didn't see it; but he was convinced that there could hardly be a worse beginning.
He went upstairs, where Anne lay in the agonies of her bilious attack. He found comfort, rather than gave it, by holding handkerchiefs steeped in eau-de-Cologne to her forehead. It gratified him to find that she would let him do it without shrinking from his touch.