On his knees beside her he bent and touched with trembling lips her arms, her knees, the slim ankles desperately interlocked, the tips of her white shoes.
"Dearest," he whispered brokenly, "I know--I know--believe me.

I have fought through worse, and won out.

You said once that something had died out in me--while I was abroad.

It did not die of itself, dear.

But it left its mark....