ed away from the taut cords below his
bony jaw and chin. She lifted one of his hands and stared, through the
tears that welled into her eyes, at the claw-like fingers resting in
hers. Her husband's pitiful plight completely softened her heart and
wiped away the memory of her jealousy and dissatisfaction with him. He
needed her, now, and everything that love could do for him, she'd give
him.

Lifting his fingers to her lips, they sat, thus, in silence, before the
log fire until Frederick withdrew his hand and let it fall into his lap.
Madelene shifted her position a little and slipped one arm around his
neck. Although somewhat amazed at the demonstration, Frederick submitted
to the caresses and found in them something of peace.

"I'm awfully sorry, Fred," she whispered, after the lapse of a few
moments. "Let's begin again and do better. I do love you, so. Put your
arms around me and tell me you'll forgive and forget."

Convinced that it was easier to humor his wife's soft mood than to risk
the strain of repulsing her, Frederick slipped his arms around her and
held her close.

"There's nothing to forgive, Madie," he muttered. "I've been awful
selfish and I'm paying the penalty, that's all. You better let me go and
forget me."

Supposing he referred to his approaching death, Madelene cried out
sharply, in protest.

"No, no, Fred, you mustn't say such things. You make me feel like a
murderess."

She wound her arms tightly around him and kissed him stormily.

"I love you and you love me," she continued. "That's all there is to it.
We'll be happy, yet!"

For a few moments, she rested in his embrace, happier than she'd been in
many a long day. Then, she disengaged herself and stood up.

"Come, dear," she smiled, "your supper is ready."

After he was seated at the table, she told him of the quarrel between
her brother and his wife, of the loss of Elsie and the search then going
on.

"Helen's most crazy," she concluded. "She's lying down, now. I gave her
a powder and I think she's sleeping."

Frederick toyed with the food before him. He made occasional
monosyllabic comments that kept the running fire of his wife's chatter
going. Unable to pretend to eat more, he leaned back in his chair.

"I'm not much of an eater," he smiled, "but I've enjoyed your lunch very
much."

The sound of steps on the stairs interrupted him.

"Hark, Fred!" his wife exclaimed. "That's Helen, now."

Together they left the dining roo