"How long did the doctor say I could live ?" the woman asked presently.
"Till morning, perhaps, Margot." "I should like to live till sunrise," she answered, "till after breakfast.

Rosalie makes good tea," she added musingly.
The Cure almost smiled.

"There is the Living Bread, my daughter." She nodded.

"But I should like to see the sunrise and have Rosalie bring me tea," she persisted.
"Very well, Margot.

We will ask God for that." Her mind flew back again to the old question.
"Is it wrong to keep a secret ?" she asked, her face turned away from the man at the window.
"If it is the secret of a sin, and the sin is your own--yes, Margot." "And if the sin is not your own ?" "If you share the sin, and if the secret means injury to others, and a wrong is being done, and the law can right that wrong, then you must go to the law, not to your priest." The Cure's look was grave, even anxious, for he saw that the old woman's mind was greatly disturbed.