Man ai n't no good and I 'm too skeered of God . '' She wrung her hands . Mr. Leonard walked up and down the room in the keenest anguish of spirit he had ever known . What could he do ? What could he say ? There was healing and peace in his religion for this woman as for all others , but he could express it in no language which this tortured soul could understand . He looked at her writhing face ; he looked at the idiot girl chuckling to herself at the foot of the bed ; he looked through the open door to the remote , starlit night -- and a horrible sense of utter helplessness overcame him . He could do nothing -- nothing ! In all his life he had never known such bitterness of soul as the realization brought home to him . `` What is the good of you if you ca n't help me ? '' moaned the dying woman . `` Pray -- pray -- pray ! '' she shrilled suddenly . Mr. Leonard dropped on his knees by the bed . He did not know what to say . No prayer that he had ever prayed was of use here . The old , beautiful formulas , which had soothed and helped the passing of many a soul , were naught save idle , empty words to Naomi Clark . In his anguish of mind Stephen Leonard gasped out the briefest and sincerest prayer his lips had ever uttered . `` O , God , our Father ! Help this woman .
Speak XXXXX her in a tongue which she can understand . ''
at for if in of on save that through to