‘We may have to,’ Gerald answered thoughtfully, staring at the window to one side. But here the resemblance stopped. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. “There are two things to be done,” he said softly to himself. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. “Oh, God!” she said at last, “how I wish I had been taught to pray!” Part 3 She had some idea of putting these subtle and difficult issues to the chaplain when she was warned of his advent. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me.
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