What's the use of
worrying?
Kipling - Poems
I'm so sorry.
Oh, Dickie, I'm so sorry.
"
Dick's shoulders straightened again, for the words lashed like a whip.
Still the sobbing continued. It is not good to realise that you have
failed in the hour of trial or flinched before the mere possibility of
making sacrifices.
"I do despise myself--indeed I do. But I can't. Oh, Dickie, you wouldn't
ask me--would you? " wailed Maisie.
She looked up for a minute, and by chance it happened that Dick's eyes
fell on hers. The unshaven face was very white and set, and the lips
were trying to force themselves into a smile. But it was the worn-out
eyes that Maisie feared. Her Dick had gone blind and left in his place
some one that she could hardly recognise till he spoke.
"Who is asking you to do anything, Maisie? I told you how it would be.
What's the use of worrying? For pity's sake don't cry like that; it
isn't worth it. "
"You don't know how I hate myself. Oh, Dick, help me--help me! " The
passion of tears had grown beyond her control and was beginning to alarm
the man. He stumbled forward and put his arm round her, and her head
fell on his shoulder.
"Hush, dear, hush! Don't cry. You're quite right, and you've nothing to
reproach yourself with--you never had. You're only a little upset by the
journey, and I don't suppose you've had any breakfast. What a brute Torp
was to bring you over. "
"I wanted to come. I did indeed," she protested.
"Very well. And now you've come and seen, and I'm--immensely grateful.
When you're better you shall go away and get something to eat.
Dick's shoulders straightened again, for the words lashed like a whip.
Still the sobbing continued. It is not good to realise that you have
failed in the hour of trial or flinched before the mere possibility of
making sacrifices.
"I do despise myself--indeed I do. But I can't. Oh, Dickie, you wouldn't
ask me--would you? " wailed Maisie.
She looked up for a minute, and by chance it happened that Dick's eyes
fell on hers. The unshaven face was very white and set, and the lips
were trying to force themselves into a smile. But it was the worn-out
eyes that Maisie feared. Her Dick had gone blind and left in his place
some one that she could hardly recognise till he spoke.
"Who is asking you to do anything, Maisie? I told you how it would be.
What's the use of worrying? For pity's sake don't cry like that; it
isn't worth it. "
"You don't know how I hate myself. Oh, Dick, help me--help me! " The
passion of tears had grown beyond her control and was beginning to alarm
the man. He stumbled forward and put his arm round her, and her head
fell on his shoulder.
"Hush, dear, hush! Don't cry. You're quite right, and you've nothing to
reproach yourself with--you never had. You're only a little upset by the
journey, and I don't suppose you've had any breakfast. What a brute Torp
was to bring you over. "
"I wanted to come. I did indeed," she protested.
"Very well. And now you've come and seen, and I'm--immensely grateful.
When you're better you shall go away and get something to eat.
