And he's right, dear--" she flashed me a proud glance, sweet and stabbing--"Don't I know it ?" Then suddenly a new idea seemed to pass through her brain.

She bent forward and touched the light shawl covering my knees.
"For the last month or two you've known what he has done.

It hasn't made any difference in your friendship.

You must think with me that the past is past, that he has purged his sins, or whatever you like to call them; that he is a man greatly to be forgiven." "Yes, dear," said I, with a show of bravery, though I dreaded lest my voice should break, "I think he is a man to be forgiven." Her logic was remorseless.
With her frank grace she threw herself, in her old attitude, by the side of my chair.
"I'm so glad we have had this talk, Majy darling.

It has made everything between us so clear and beautiful.