Still, not a word passed her lips.

I found courage enough to go on--but not courage enough to look at her.
"'I love Ovid, and Ovid loves me,' I said.

'There is my consolation, whatever my troubles may be.

Are you not so fortunate ?' A dreadful expression of pain passed over her face.

How could I see it, and not feel the wish to sympathise with her?
I ran the risk, and said, 'Do you love somebody, who doesn't love you ?' "She turned her back on me, and went to the toilet-table.