“Lutie, you may go into the next room while I speak to Daisie.”
They were alone—the beautiful, wretched girl and the husband who loved her so vainly and was slipping away from her so fast into the darkness of death.
He gazed at her with adoration in his dim blue eyes, and faltered:
“You did not leave me, Daisie. I am so glad, for I do not expect to live long, and I will die happy if you stay by me to the last.”
Her heart was touched by his fervent love, and impulsively she smoothed his cold hand caressingly.
But he sighed, and continued:
“I do not deserve your kindness, and I would not dare to accept it—only that I believe I am—slipping away from life.”
“Oh, no, no—there is a chance!” she said gently.
“Would you wish me to live, Daisie?”
“Yes—oh, yes!”