At times she leaned her whole trembling weight upon him, and then withdrew herself, all unnerved as she was, with the inborn maiden reticence which so many years had strengthened; once she pushed him from her, then drooped upon his arm again, and all the time she kept moaning, "I thought you was goin' right past, Richard, I thought you was goin' right past." And Barney kept repeating, "I guess you've made a mistake, Miss Crane"; but she did not heed him.
When they were inside the parlor he shifted her weight gently on to the sofa, and would have drawn off; but she clung to his arm, and it seemed to him that he was forced to sit down beside her or be rough with her.

"I thought you was goin' right past, Richard," she said again.
"I ain't Richard," said Barney; but she did not seem to hear him.

She looked straight in his face with a strange boldness, her body inclined towards him, her head thrown back.

Her thin, faded cheeks were burning, her blue eyes eager, her lips twitching with pitiful smiles.

The room was dim with candle-light, but everything in it was distinct, and Sylvia Crane, looking straight at Barney Thayer's face, saw the face of Richard Alger.
Suddenly Barney himself had a curious impression.