Quietly as he might, he told the sad story in so far as he understood it--the love, the sacrifice, the suffering.

As she listened her head drooped ever lower, and he saw the glitter of tears falling unchecked.

He was glad she could cry; it was better than that dull, dead stare.

As he made an end, picturing the sorrowing Stutter kneeling in his silent watch at the bedside, she looked gravely across to him, the moisture clinging to the long lashes.
"It was better so--far better.

I know how she felt, for she has told me.