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MARIE'S SIDE OF IT.
We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty of language.

To attempt putting some emotions into words is like trying to play Ave Maria on a toy piano.

There are heights and depths utterly beyond the limitation of instrument and speech alike.
Marie's agonized experience in Alpine--and afterward--was of that kind.
She went there under the lure of her loneliness, her heart-hunger for Bud.

Drunk or sober, loving her still or turning away in anger, she had to see him; had to hear him speak; had to tell him a little of what she felt of penitence and longing, for that is what she believed she had to do.