It was all she asked of Heaven.
"Oh, God have pity on me," she moaned, and rocked herself to and fro.
Septimus stood for a time tongue-tied in acute distress.

This was his first adventure in knight-errantry and he had served before neither as page nor squire.

He would have given his head to say the unknown words that might comfort her.

All he could do was to pat her on the shoulder in a futile way and bid her not to cry, which, as all the world knows, is the greatest encouragement to further shedding of tears a weeping woman can have.

Emmy sobbed more bitterly than ever.