“Finding so much of the beast in me. My God, I thought the thing was dead; we are never dead, dear, to our father’s sins.”
She came and sat beside him before the fire, a man’s woman, pure, generous, trusty to the deeps. The light made magic in her hair, and showed the unfathomable faith within her eyes.
“Put the memory behind you,” she said, looking up into his face.
He groaned, as though dust and ashes still covered his manhood.
“You are too good to me, Kate.”
“No,” and she drew his hands down into her bosom; the warmth thereof seemed to comfort him as a mother’s breast comforts a child at night.
“I am glad you have told me—all.”
“Yes—all.”
“It helps me, it will help us both.”
“I ought to have told you long ago,” he said.