"It is better for you to have baby with you.

I could not have taught him your thoughts.

It is better, dear, isn't it ?" The earnest inflection of her voice in these interrogations brought so wild a sense of pathos to the Danite's heart that his eyes filled with tears and brimmed over, but Susannah's sobs were like a nervous gasping of which she was scarcely conscious, and no hint of tears.
She lightly touched the baby hand that was lying on its father's shoulder, still grasping the blue blossoms.

"See," she sobbed, "he has brought his flowers to you; he always loved you best." There had been a great silence in the air about them, but now there was again the sound of firing at the distance of about a mile.

The Danite's pulses leaped, but he did not, because of that, allow himself to speak or move.
Susannah spoke again, resting her hand on Halsey's brow, "You know, dear, I don't know whether you and baby are anywhere--anywhere"; wildly, as if the appalling loneliness of its meaning had flashed upon her dulled brain, she repeated the word.
The Danite's sympathy rose within him; he staggered forward and bent over her.