For a moment I am overpowered by this apparition of a mistake, bygone and forgotten.

Marie does not know; but seeing those initials, and divining a presence between us, she dare not speak.
As the match is on the point of going out I throw it down.

The little flame's last flicker has lighted up for me the edge of the poor black serge skirt, so worn that it shines a little, even in the evening, and has shown me the girl's shoe.

There is a hole in the heel of the stocking, and we have both seen it.

In quick shame, Marie draws her foot under her skirt; and I--I tremble still more that my eyes have touched a little of her maiden flesh, a fragment of her real innocence.
Gently she stands up in the grayness, and puts an end to this first fate-changing meeting.
We return.