There were no ameliorating phrases to soften it to her ears; there was no tact, there was no blarney, there was no suave suggestion now, no cheap gaiety, no cynicism of the social vampire--only the direct statement of a self-reproachful, dying man.
"I didn't fully know what I was doing," he said to her.

"If I had understood then as I do now, I would never have come near you.

It was the worst wickedness I ever did." The new note in his voice, the new fashion of his words, the new look of his eyes, startled her, confused her.

She could scarcely believe he was the same man.

The dumb desolation lifted a little, and a look of under standing seemed to pierce her tragic apathy.