Her eyes passed to me and searched my face without looking into my eyes, as though I made part of her study.

What sat on her face was perplexity, wonder, amazement, and something else, I know not what.

Something of her perfect poise and confidence, her quality as woman of the world, seemed to drop away.

A strange and childlike quality came into her face, a pathos unlike anything I had seen there before.

She took my hand mechanically.
"Of course," said she, as though she spoke to herself, "it can not be.
But, dear God! would it not be enough ?" I did not understand her speech.