"There was another silence, and then he said in a low voice:
"'Don't you think that it would be easier . . . . for her?'
" 'No,' I said, 'I don't.'
" 'But living I can only be a weight a drag.'
" 'Her little children are that,' said I.
" 'But don't you see,' he cried, 'how different it is? They will grow up. . . ' His voice rose in key.
"'They will grow up and need her less,'said I; 'it is while they are drags, weights, that they give her the greatest joy.'
" 'Don't,' he groaned, '. . . . don't you see, man, that my mind was at rest about it; that I was cheerful, happy, when it was only a matter of dying, . . . and now that you are taking that away, think of the horror of what's left. . . .' His mouth writhed.
" 'You are the chief sufferer,' said I. 'My sympathy is for you. I did not mean to destroy your faith in the ethics of this thing.
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