"Come in!" It was her husband's voice, but now again her courage failed her, and she stood shaking from head to foot, incapable of action.
She heard his step across the room, and then the door opened and he stood looking at her.
"You! What do you want?" His voice was not unkind, in spite of the bluntness of the words, and in desperation she raised her eyes.
"I want to speak to you."
There was a little silence. She could read refusal in his face, but after a moment he opened the door wide, and stood aside for her to enter, closing it again after her.
"Well?" He went back to the table at which he had been writing, and looked at her across it with hard eyes.
He was so ill, so worn! Faith stood looking at him in dumb pain, and he asked again impatiently:
"What do you want?"
"I want you to forgive me."