"I think that you were, though you hardly knew it.

I should be very sorry if you were angry." "Why would you be sorry ?" asked the Wanderer with a civil indifference that hurt Unorna more than any acknowledgment of his displeasure could have done.
"Because I would help you, if you would let me." He looked at her with sudden keenness.

In spite of herself she blushed and turned her head away.

He hardly noticed the fact, and, if he had, would assuredly not have put upon it any interpretation approaching to the truth.

He supposed that she was flushed with walking.
"No one has ever helped me, least of all in the way you mean," he said.
"The counsels of wise men--of the wisest--have been useless, as well as the dreams of women who fancy they have the gift of mental sight beyond the limit of bodily vision." "Who fancy they see!" exclaimed Unorna, almost glad to find that she was still strong enough to feel annoyance at the slight.
"I beg your pardon.