Again she hid her face. Then, after a pause in which she saw her life befouled, and Gabriel Stanton as her judge or executioner, she lifted a strained and desperate face. “You would find a way to end it?” She waited for his answer. “I don’t know what you mean.” “Yes, you do. If it became unbearable. Life no longer a gift, but leprous....” “It isn’t as if you had done anything,” he exclaimed. “I’ve promised and broken my promise, lied, deceived him. It was only to secure his happiness, mine ... ours.... But if he takes it differently, and must have publicity....” “I don’t believe you could go through it,” he said gloomily. “One of those heart attacks of yours might come on.” “You know the pain is intolerable.” “That amyl helps you.” “Not much.” “Morphia.” “Was a failure last time. Peter, _think_, won’t you think? Couldn’t you give me anything? Isn’t there any drug? You are fond of drugs, learned in them. Isn’t there any drug that would put me out of my misery?” He listened and she pressed him. “Think, _think_.” “Of course there are drugs.” “But _the_ drug.” “There’s hyoscine....” “Tell me the effect of that?” “It depends how it is given ... what it is given for.” “For forgetfulness?” “A quarter of a grain injection.” “And, and....” “Nothing, nothingness.” “If you love me, Peter.... You say you love me.... If the worst came to the worst, you will help me through...?” “Don’t.” “I must.... I want your promise.” “What is the good of promising? I couldn’t do it.” “You said you could die for me.” “It isn’t my death you are asking. Unless I should be hanged!” “You can safeguard yourself.” “You will never ask me.” “But if I did?” “Oh, God knows!” “If I not only asked but implored? Give me this hope, this promise. _If_ I come to the end of my tether, can bear no more; then ask you for release, the great release...?” “My hand would drop off.” “Lose your hand.” “My heart would fail.” “Other men have done such things for the woman they love.” “It won’t come to that.” “But if it did...?” She pressed him, pressed him so hard that in the end he yielded, gave her the promise she asked. His night had been sleepless, he had been without breakfast. He scarcely knew what he was saying, only that he could not say “No” to her. And that when he said “Yes,” she took his hand in hers a moment, his reluctant hand, and laid her cheek against it. “Dear friend,” she said tenderly, “you give me courage.” When he went away she looked happier, or at least quieter. He cursed himself for a fool when he got into the car. But still against his hand he felt the softness of her cheek and the fear of unmanly tears made him exceed the speed limit.