she looked into his face and said: "He insulted you."
"Yes yes, dear." he answered. "He has done that right along, but you step outside and Papa will tend to him,"
She still clung to him and said: "He has made you suffer."
He bowed his head, and feigned to suffer. I stood looking on mechanically. He repeated, "Run outside, dear," and he stood holding, the door open, then, realization seemed to come to her, she turned and threw herself into Mrs. Arling's arms, weakly, and broke into mournful sobs. Her father drew her gently from the embrace and with her face in her hands, and still sobbing, she passed out. He followed and through the open door I caught a glimpse of Clavis on the sidewalk below, the man who had written—not a year before, "I am going to be a brother, and help you."
The next moment the door closed softly behind them. That was the last time I saw my wife.
THE END
