Explore "The Mill of Silence" by Bernard Capes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For a minute or more I must have stood gazing down on the damning words, unmoving, breathless almost. Then I glanced at the quiet face on the pillow and back again to the tablet I held in my hand.
I am glad to know -- proud, in the little pride I may call mine -- that at that supreme moment I stood stanch; that I cried to myself: "It is a lie, born of his disease! He never did it! " That I dashed the tablet back upon the bed and that my one overwhelming thought was: "How may I defend this poor soul from himself? "