"What hotel? Where was it?"
"The Mansion House, Main Street, Buffalo."
Beverton shook in the knees. She had named the hotel where his parents had stopped while traveling—where he had last walked in his sleep.
"Grace," he said, as firmly and gently as he could with his tongue trembling against the roof of his mouth. "He did not mean to hurt you; he did not know you at the time. He will never hurt you. You must never seek him again, either to kill or explain to him. He is satisfied."
"Has he forgiven? Does he realize that—that—I—that—"
Her face became troubled again, and she reached forth her hands, clutching at the air, as though trying to grasp the elusive memory.
"Yes, he has forgiven," said Beverton, steadier of voice now at the apparent success of the experiment. "And you will never seek him again, will you? It is all settled now."
"All settled," she repeated, while her countenance softened.
"You will not worry any more, will you?"
"No more. It is all settled. He has forgiven me."