"I—I don't know, Tom…. I'm tired—so, so tired…." And then, abruptly: "Tell me…. Yes, tell me. What shall I do?"
She waited, deep eyes lifted, little head poised wearily upon white, rounded throat.
He answered, very slowly—with effort that even he could not conceal:
"Kate, do you remember that day in June, eight years ago, when you walked down the aisle of Old Trinity. Do you remember how the sun shone in at the windows, flecking the darkness of the old pews with golden motes? John Schuyler met you at the altar; and to him you said, 'For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death us do part.'"
Gently he laid his hand upon her shoulder, with great tenderness.
"Stick, Kate," he advised, softly. "Stick."
And that was all.
[Illustration]