His eyes filled with horror and
fright.
"'Cynthy, sweetheart--' he moaned and she flew to comfort him. She let
him hold her and kiss her. Then she drew his head down and kissed his
hair, his eyes, his lips. She laid his hands against her cold white
cheeks, then crushed them to her lips and fled.
"Roger never saw her again.
"She went away and was gone a long time. I got letters every now and
then from out-of-the-way places.
"For five years I was happy. It was hard to live without Cynthy. But
Roger had left town and Dick was good to me. I knew that the shock of
Roger's tragedy had kept him from touching anything those five years.
But as time passed and memories faded I grew afraid once more. Dick
was no drinking man but everybody drank a little then, even the women.
Men joked about it and the women, poor souls, tried to. Well--just
five years almost to a day they brought him home to me--dead. He had
had a few drinks--the first since our marriage. He was driving an ugly
horse--and it happened.
"Some way Cynthia heard and she came home to comfort me. I think that
when she stood with me beside Dick's grave she was glad she had done
what she had done and felt a kind of peace. Roger was still gone but
it would not have mattered.
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