pillows, his solid head with its
growth of once dark brown hair slightly grayed. He looked at her
curiously out of his wise old eyes, a light of sympathy and affection
shining in them--weary as they were. Jennie was greatly
distressed. His pale face, slightly drawn from suffering, cut her like
a knife. She took his hand, which was outside the coverlet, and
pressed it. She leaned over and kissed his lips.

"I'm so sorry, Lester," she murmured. "I'm so sorry. You're not
very sick though, are you? You must get well, Lester--and soon!"
She patted his hand gently.

"Yes, Jennie, but I'm pretty bad," he said. "I don't feel right
about this business. I don't seem able to shake it off. But tell me,
how have you been?"

"Oh, just the same, dear," she replied. "I'm all right. You mustn't
talk like that, though. You're going to be all right very soon
now."

He smiled grimly. "Do you think so?" He shook his head, for he
thought differently. "Sit down, dear," he went on, "I'm not worrying
about that. I want to talk to you again. I want you near me." He
sighed and shut his eyes for a minute.

She drew up a chair close beside the bed, her face toward his, and
took his hand. It seemed such a beautiful thing that he should send
for her. Her eyes showed the mingled sympathy, affection, and
gratitude of her heart. At the same time fear gripped her; how ill he
looked!

"I can't tell what may happen," he went on. "Letty is in Europe.
I've wanted to see you again for some time. I was coming out this
trip. We are living in New York, you know. You're a little stouter,
Jennie."

"Yes, I'm getting old, Lester," she smiled.

"Oh, that doesn't make any difference," he replied, looking at her
fixedly. "Age doesn't count. We are all in that boat. It's how we feel
about life."

He stopped and stared at the ceiling. A slight twinge of pain
reminded him of the vigorous seizures he had been through. He couldn't
stand many more paroxysms like the last one.

"I couldn't go, Jennie, without seeing you again," he observed,
when the slight twinge ceased and he was free to think again. "I've
always wanted to say to you, Jennie," he went on, "that I haven't been
satisfied with the way we parted. It wasn't the right thing, after
all. I haven't been any happier. I'm sorry. I wish now, for my own
peace of mind, that I hadn't done it."

"Don't say that, Lester," she demurred, going over in her mind all
that had been between them. This was such a t