"Oh, I'm not going to be hard on you," Helen said, and though she spoke with genuine amusement, she felt a little seed of anger germinating in her breast. That was what George had done to her: he had made her heart a fertile place for passions which her mind disdained.
"And I'm so glad to have you here," she added, defying harsh emotions.
"Ah! You're rather nice—and, yes, you are much prettier. How have you done it? I should like to kiss you."
"Well, you may." She put her face close to Miriam's, and enjoyed the coolness of that sisterly salute.
"But," Miriam said, startled by a thought, "need I kiss—her?"
"No. You won't want to do that. She isn't very nice to look at."
Miriam shrank against the wall. "Not ugly?"
"You must come and see," Helen said. She was shaken again by a moment's anger as she looked on Miriam's lovely elegance and remembered the price that had been paid for it. "You must come and see her," she repeated. "Do you think you are the only one who hates deformity?"
"Deformity?" Miriam whispered.
"Her face is twisted. Oh—I see it every day!"