For Mary, brushing her hands, one gloved and one bare, before her eyes, returned the stare of the mountain girl with equal scorn.

A mighty loathing filled up her veins in place of strength.
"Tell me," she said, "was--was this man living with you when he came to me and--and made speeches--about love ?" "Bah! He was living with me.

I tell you, he came back and laughed with me about it, and told me about your baby-blue eyes when they filled with tears; laughed and laughed and laughed, I tell you, as I could laugh now." The other twisted her hands together, moaning: "And I have followed him, even to the place where he keeps his--woman?
Ah, how I hate myself: how I despise myself.

I'm unclean--unclean in my own eyes!" "Wait!" called Jacqueline.

"You are leaving too soon.