The door was a little open, and he pushed it back and came in, and stood beside the bed.
I suppose the sight of me, so broken and spoiled by suffering, overcame him, for he stooped down suddenly, and kissed me, and then did not speak for a moment.
At last he said, in a voice not quite steady, "I didn't mean to be hard on you, Pauline.

But you know I had to do it." "And there isn't any--any--" I gasped for the words, and could hardly speak.
"No, none, Pauline," he said, keeping my hand in his.

"The doctors have just gone away.

It was all no use." "Tell me about it," I whispered.
"About what ?" he said, looking troubled.
"About how it happened." "Nobody can tell," he answered, averting his face.

"We can only conjecture about some things.