Between Friends

Under his fevered eyes he was confusing them, now, and he sank down

close against the pedestal and laid his f ace against her small cold

foot.

"I am sick," he rambled on--"and very tired. . . . We were boys

together, Cecile. . . . When I am in my right mind I would not harm

him. . . . He was so handsome and daring. There was nothing he dared

not do. . . . So young, and straight, and daring. . . . I would not

harm him. Or you, Cecile. . . . Only I am sick, burning out, with

only a crippled mind left--from being badly hurt--It never got well.

. . . And now it is dying of its hurt--Cecile!--Mother of God!--before

it dies I do forgive him--and ask forgiveness--for Christ's sake--"

Toward noon the janitor broke in the door.