"You'll think I haven't bettered myself!" said she as though Matthew was to blame for her present situation. She could hardly resist picturing to him in plain language the unpleasantness and actual danger of Ellen's life in a store with a lot of rascals—what could a Seventh-Dayer know about life in the city?—but it seemed disloyal to mention Ellen's affairs, and she withdrew, leaving him alone. He could hear a continual whispering from the kitchen and when Ellen arrived he closed the door of the little room which with its drawn shades seemed like a prison cell.
"Why, Matthew!" said Ellen. She sat down quickly, her heart filled with murderous thoughts of Mr. Goldstein. She felt a crazy temptation to ask Matthew to go to his store and beat him.
Matthew came to the point at once. He sat squarely in his chair, his strong, brown hands clasped between his knees, a handsome figure.
"Millie was wrong to speak as she did, Ellen. We know there is nothing between you and Amos, either on his part or yours. Won't you come back?"
Ellen's eyes filled.
"I didn't mind that so much. I'm not here on that account."
He saw dark circles round her eyes. She had grown thinner. He had never before looked critically at Ellen.
"You aren't well!"
"Yes, I am."
He looked still more intently; seeing for the first time the fine proportions of her body and the shape of her beautiful head. The city-dwellers would make of her, he thought fearfully, an object of desire!