"In Alnwick, at St. Mary's," Wilford answered, determining now to hold nothing back, and by his abruptness wounding Katy afresh.
"In Alnwick, at St. Mary's" Katy cried. "Then I have seen her grave, and that is why you were so anxious to get there, so unwilling to go away. Oh, if I were lying there instead of Genevra, it would be so much better, so much better."
There was sobbing now, in a moaning, plaintive way which touched Wilford tenderly, and smoothing her tangled hair, he said: "I would not exchange my Katy for all the Genevras in the world. She was never as dear to me as you. I was but a boy, and did not know my mind when I met her. Shall I tell you about her now? Can you bear to hear the story of Genevra?"
There was a nod of assent, and Katy turned her face to the wall, clasping her hands tightly together, while Wilford drew his chair to her side and began to read the page he should have read to her long before.