"I do not think you understand me," she said.
He stood awed before what he now saw. It was as though he were looking at a naked soul.
"I do not think you understand," she continued, lifting her head a little. "You will not go, because there can be no call so great as that which bids you stay."
He answered, "My master is the master of us all."
"Then," she returned, "I too must go to meet your master. He must claim us both."
"God forbid," he exclaimed.
"You talk of masters," she ran on more excitedly, "and you are only a man. We women have a master greater than any you know. You taught me a moment ago to be direct—to be honest. It is so I must be with you now. I must be brave," her voice trembled a little, "I must stand face to face with you. Oh, if you were not so unselfish—so unseeing, you would not make me do this!"
He stood speechless—his throat aching the length of it.
"You treat me like a child, when you have made me a woman! You treat me like a weakling, when you have given me strength! You tell me you have some great trouble and then you refuse to allow me to share it! Don't you see?"
Her face was transfigured by pure white courage. He trembled before it. Yet he only gripped himself the firmer and stood before her immovable, every word she spoke leaving a red welt upon his soul.