"_You_ can't help it, can you?" Edith smiled, with a sense of her own
superiority. "I suppose that's the reason you come here. I've seen you
before."
"Have you?"
"Yes; several times. And that _is_ the reason, isn't it?--because you
can't help loving him."
The woman's tears began to flow again. "It's because I don't know what
else to do. When he doesn't come any more--"
"Oh, so he doesn't come."
"Not unless I make him. When he sees me here--"
"Well, what then?"
"He gets angry. He comes to tell me that if I do it again--"
"I see. But he _comes_. It brings him. That's the main thing, isn't it?
Well, now that you've told me so much, I'll--I'll try to--to send him."
She was struck with a new thought. "If you were to come in now--you
could--you could wait for him."