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 that are left in a man’s heart.” The tears rolled down her cheeks, she leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. She had stopped speaking because her voice broke. Presently she began again resolutely. “But I’m made so. People can be lovers and enemies at the same time, you know. We were A man and woman draw apart from that long embrace, and see what they have done to each other. Perhaps I can’t forgive him for the harm I did him. Perhaps that’s it. When there are children, that feeling goes through natural changes. But when it remains so personal something gives way in one. In age we lose everything; even the power to love.”

“He hasn’t,” I suggested.

“He has asked you to speak for him, my dear? Then we have destroyed each other indeed!”

“Certainly he hasn’t, Mrs. Myra! But you are hard on him, you know, and when there are so many hard things, it seems a pity.”

“Yes, it’s a great pity.” She drew herself up