But, dear friend"-- as she saw him wince--"I'm not proud any longer.

I think Death very soon shows us how little--pride--matters; it falls into its right perspective when one is nearing the end of things.
I'm so little proud now that I've sent for you to ask your help." "Anything--anything!" he said eagerly.
"It's rather a big thing that I'm going to ask, I'm afraid.

I want you," she spoke slowly, as though to focus his attention, "to take care of my child--when I am gone." He stared at her doubtfully.
"But her father?
Will he consent ?" he asked.
"He is dead.

I received the news of his death six months ago.

There is no one--no one who has any claim upon her.