. . If they could live again! If
they could build!
She had something to live for--something to fight for. Into
her eyes came a new light; into her soul came peace and
strength. Something to live for--someone to redeem.
XI
SHE fell asleep, her head resting upon her hand, her elbow on
the arm of the chair. She awoke with a shiver; she opened her
eyes to find him gazing at her. The eyes of both shifted
instantly. "Wouldn't you like some whiskey?" she asked.
"Thanks," replied he, and his unchanged voice reminded her
vividly of his old self, obscured by the beard and by the
dissipated look.
She took the bottle from its concealment in the locked
washstand drawer, poured him out a large drink. When she came
back where he could see the whiskey in the glass, his eyes
glistened and he raised himself first on his elbow, then to a
sitting position. His shaking hand reached out eagerly and his
expectant lips quivered. He gulped the whiskey down.
"Thank you," he said, gazing longingly at the bottle as he held
the empty glass toward her.
"More?"
"I _would_ like a little more," said he gratefully.
Again she poured him a large drink, and again he gulped it
down. "That's strong stuff," said he. "But then they sell
strong stuff in this part of town. The other kind tastes weak
to me now."
He dropped back against the pillows.
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