“Can’t you have a little mercy on me?” she said. “Even if you think I’m wrong? Andrée is—my whole life; I’ve let everything else go. I haven’t any life of my own, or any hopes.... Nothing but her. Oh, I’d go on my knees to you!”
“No, no!” he cried, shocked profoundly, both by her suffering and by her amazing unscrupulousness. “Mrs. Vincelle! I beg you!”
“Then listen to me! Think of me! Put aside your theories and your principles.... Isn’t it something to be kind—even to me? Isn’t it better to be kind than—”
But she could not go on; she buried her face in her hands and wept silently. She looked so small, so helpless, so terribly fallen from her almost superhuman aloofness....
“Please don’t!” he entreated, again. “I’ve always had such a great respect for you.... I—you don’t know how I’ve thought about you.... I wouldn’t hurt you for anything in the world! Look here! Really!... Please listen! We’ll wait.”
She looked up, careless of her tear-stained face, quick to seize her advantage.
“Give me my chance?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, a little alarmed.
“You’ve done all this—you’ve persuaded her secretly—behind my back. Let me have a little time!”
“To turn her against me?”