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 “I couldn’t do any less for you than I did. I would have brought a dog into my room if it seemed hurt.”

“I see that you wish me to go.”

He got up and moved towards the door, but he staggered and with a groan tumbled to his knees. Margaret sprang forward to help him. She reproached herself bitterly for those scornful words. The man had barely escaped death, and she was merciless.

“Oh, please stay as long as you like,” she cried. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He dragged himself with difficulty back to the chair, and she, conscience-stricken, stood over him helplessly. She poured out a glass of water, but he motioned it away as though he would not be beholden to her even for that.

“Is there nothing I can do for you at all?” she exclaimed, painfully.

“Nothing, except allow me to sit in this chair,” he gasped.

“I hope you’ll remain as long as you choose.”

He did not reply. She sat down again and pretended to read. In a little while he began to speak. His voice reached her as if from a long way off.

“Will you never forgive me for what I did the other day?”

She answered without looking at him, her back still turned.

“Can it matter to you if I forgive or not?”

“You have no pity. I told you then how sorry I was that a sudden uncontrollable pain drove me to