She released her head and her eyes grew moist:

“You must not be good to me,” she said. “You don’t know me. I am not the woman you think.”

Then she laid her head on the chair and said, softly:

“I am so sad, Cordt.”

“You will be glad again.”

“I daresay,” she said. “But I shall always be sad.”

She took the ruined bouquet and laid it on the chair and her cheek upon it. She closed her eyes. Cordt looked at her—she seemed so tired—and they were long silent. Then she said:

“It is so cold in here.”

And then silence fell upon the room again.

“Cordt!”