“On the contrary, that appears to be the life-business of saints——”
“She will never go back to that!” he said with low vehemence.
Helen regarded her old comrade for a moment, kissed her reverently, and then turned to the man.
“You poor boy,” she said.
There was something cold and rock-like about this slave of the future, looking over and beyond the imminent tragedy. He was helpless, maddened....
“She always said you loved her—that you were the one woman absolutely true. How could you let her destroy herself?”
“I knew her before you came, and loved her. I gave her my house. I waited upon her night and morning. I love Betty Berry. You are torn and tortured, but you will see——”
“She will not be away from me again!... Bah! what is work—to this?”
Helen smiled. “Do you think she would have come if she had been the real Betty Berry?”
“Do you think I would have been duped—had I been the real John Morning?”