Looking at her, I found a dimness hazing my sight, and when I rubbed it away it came back.
"Then--what did he say ?" This was whispered, almost shyly, and I could scarcely believe the proud Miss Sampson stood before me.
"Why, he flew into a fury, called me an--" Hastily I caught myself.
"Well, he said if I wanted to talk to him any more not to speak of you.
He was sure unreasonable." "Russ--you think--you told me once--he--you think he still--" She was not facing me at all now.

She had her head bent.

Both hands were at her breast, and I saw it heave.

Her cheek was white as a flower, her neck darkly, richly red with mounting blood.
I understood.

And I pitied her and hated myself and marveled at this thing, love.