"I can keep from speaking of it, but forget it—never! It was so much like you, like the man that's in you!" and the tears fell again.
"Agnes, Agnes, if you don't hush, almost I will forget myself...."
"I had to tell you, I had to!" she sobbed.
"But it is only a small return for what you did for me. Do you realize, Agnes, had it not been for you, I—I—would not be sitting here now? Oh, think of that and then you will see how little I have done—how very little I can ever do to repay!" His voice was brave, albeit emotional. He leaned toward her, and the passion was in his face. She grasped his arm tighter as she looked up again into his face out of her tear bedimmed eyes and cried brokenly:
"But Jean, the cases are not parallel. What I did for you I would have done for anybody. It was merely an act of providence; but yours—oh, Jean, can't you understand!" He was silent.
"Yours was the act of kindness," she went on again, "the act of a man; and you would have kept it secret; because you would never have had it known, because you would not have us feel under obligation to you. Oh, that is what makes me—oh, it makes me cry when I think of it." The tears flowed freely while her slender shoulders shook with emotion.
From a painting by W.M. Farrow.
"BUT, JEAN, THE CASES ARE NOT PARALLEL. WHAT I DID FOR YOU I WOULD HAVE DONE FOR ANY ONE; BUT YOURS—OH, JEAN, CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND!"