She was never meant for the life she had chosen!
His heart felt breaking.
The delicate features, the sweet, wistful, childish face, the pathos in her regretful cry—the past with its load of gall and shame and misery—which could never be obliterated. Never!
"Why do you look at me like that? I am better. I know I am better. I thought—I feared—I was going to die; if I had there was no one to care but—Saidie."
"Do you not think what it would mean to—me?"
The words broke from him against his will.
"To—you, Jack! then you care—still!"
"Care!"
He drew his hand away and walked over to the window. The morning was breaking: morning in the Strand; and already there was a busy hum without.
Her eyes followed him wistfully, with a little wonderment in them—and then the lids fell over them.