She dropped her face upon her hands as she held the chair, and so stood.
He fell back a pace, gazing at her still.
"I have heard of women who fancied themselves injured," he said, "planning to revenge themselves upon the men who had intentionally or unintentionally wounded their pride. I remember such things in books I have read, not in real life, and once or twice the thought has crossed my mind that at some time in the past I might, in my poor ignorance, have presumed—or—blundered in some way to—anger you—and that this has been my punishment. It is only a wild thought, but it was a straw to cling to, and I would rather believe it, wild as it is, than believe that what you have done has been done wantonly. Can it be—is it true?"
"No."
But she did not lift her face.
"It is not?"
"No."
"Then it is worse than I thought."
He said the words slowly and clearly, and they were his last. Having said them, he went away without a backward glance.
