"Something happened. It was George. Has he gone away?"
"He isn't going to hurt you. He wants to take you home."
"Don't let him. We'll go together, Helen. Soon. Not yet. Take care of me. Don't leave me." She started up. "Helen! I didn't say I'd marry him. I wouldn't. Helen, I know I didn't!"
"You didn't, you didn't. He knows. He frightened you because you teased him so. He just frightened you. He's here—not angry. Look!"
He nodded at her clumsily.
"You see?"
"Yes. I'm glad. I'm sorry, George."
"It doesn't matter," he said.
He looked at Helen and she looked full at him and she knew, when he turned to Miriam, that he still watched over herself. She could recognize the tenderness and wonder in his eyes, but she could not understand how they had found a place there, ousting greed and anger for her sake, how his molten senses had taken an imprint of her to instruct his mind.
"Can you come now?" she said.