“May I come in?”
Like a wraith of mist afloat in the night she stole into the darkened room and settled slowly and noiselessly beside him. He tried to struggle to his feet in protest, but she clung to him, her fingers clutching his arm, her sobs choking her.
“Don’t—don’t go! I must talk to you—nobody else understands—nobody——”
“But you must not stay here! Think what——”
“No! Please—please—I can’t go; you must listen! I couldn’t sleep. Help me! Tell me what I must do! Oh, Adam, please—please! I shall die if I have to keep on as I have done.”
She slipped from the low cushion and lay crouching at his feet, her arms and face resting on his knees; her wonderful hair, like spun gold, falling about him, its faint perfume stirring his senses.
Then, with indrawn, stifling sobs she laid bare her innermost secrets; all her heartaches, misunderstandings, hidden sorrows, and last that unnamed pain which no human touch but his could heal. Only once, as she crouched beside him, did he try to stop the flow of her whispered talk; she pleading piteously while he held her from him, he looking into her eyes as if he were afraid to read their meaning.
When she had ended he lifted her to her feet, smoothed the dishevelled hair from her face, and kissed her on the forehead:
“Go now,” he said in a broken voice, as he led her to the door. “Go, and let me think it over.”