His face grew grave for her.
"Look here," he said, "you mustn't be morbid about Edith.

It isn't necessary.

All the time we're gone, she'll be there, in perfect bliss with simply thinking of the good time _we_'re having." "But her back's bad to-day." "Then she'll be glad that we're not there to feel it.

Her back will add to her happiness, if anything." She drew in a sharp breath, as if he had hurt her.
"Oh, Walter, how can you ?" He replied with emphasis.

"How can I?
I can, not because I'm a brute, as you seem to suppose, but because she's a saint and an angel.