CHAPTER XXXVII

ivellingcowardwhenitcomestotellingawomanfacetofacethatshe’sgottodiesoon.ItoldherI’dlookupsomefeaturesofthecaseIwasn’tquitesureofandletherknownextday.Butyougotherletter—lookhere,‘DearMissS-t-e-r-l-i-n-g.’” “Yes.Inoticedthat.ButIthoughtitamistake.Ididn’tknowtherewereanySterlingsinPortLawrence.” “Shewastheonlyone.Alonelyoldsoul.Livedbyherselfwithonlyalittlehomegirl.Shediedtwomonthsaftershewashere—diedinhersleep.Mymistakecouldn’thavemadeanydifferencetoher.Butyou!Ican’tforgivemyselfforinflictingayear’smiseryonyou.It’stimeIretired,allright,whenIdothingslikethat—evenifmysonwassupposedtobefatallyinjured.Canyoueverforgiveme?” Ayearofmisery!ValancysmiledatorturedsmileasshethoughtofallthehappinessDr.Trent’smistakehadboughther.Butshewaspayingforitnow—oh,shewaspaying.Iftofeelwastoliveshewaslivingwithavengeance. SheletDr.Trentexamineherandansweredallhisquestions.Whenhetoldhershewasfitasafiddleandwouldprobablylivetobeahundred,shegot