She looked at herself in the mirror as she began to speak, but, when her sight met its own reflection, her voice faltered, the words trailed off. She stood motionless, scrutinizing herself closely, critically; then saw a slow flush come up from her neck, flooding her cheeks. Uneasily her eyes dropped from their reflection, then shot back with a rallying of the dark defiance that had been in them; only for an instant, for the fire disappeared, they became unsteady.
Her movements grew rapid. She drew hairpins from the coils and dropped them heedlessly. She shook out her hair and brushed it with nervous vigor; then braided it feverishly, as if some inner emotion might find vent in that simple task.
Time after time she shot glances into the mirror, but in each instance she felt her cheeks burn more fiercely, saw the confused humility increasing in her expression and, finally, her rapid breathing lost its regularity, her lips quivered and her shoulders lifted in a sob. She covered her face with her hands, pressing finger tips tightly against her eyes, struggling to master herself, to bring again that defiant spirit. But she could not; it had gone and she was fighting doggedly against the reaction, knowing that it must come, knowing what it would be, almost terror stricken at the realization.
She paced the floor, stopping now and then, and finally cried aloud:
"She was stealin' him; he is mine!"—as though some presence had accused her of a lie. Again, she repeated the words, but in a whisper; and conviction was not with her.
She sat down on the edge of her bed, but could not remain quiet, and commenced walking, moving automatically, almost dreamlike, distressed, flinging her arms about like a guilt-maddened Lady Macbeth. Each time she passed the mirror she experienced a terrible desire to meet her own gaze again, but she would not, for her own eyes accused her, bored relentlessly into her heart.
"An' I called her a hypocrite," she burst out suddenly, halted, turned and rushed back toward the dresser, straining forward, forcing her gaze to read the soul that was bared before her, there in the mirror.
"You lied to her!" she muttered. "You told her dirty lies; you're throwin' him down. You're killin' her... You ...
"Oh, Bruce, Bruce!"
She turned away and let the tears come again.