"Yes, I know: you only think the worst of me. But though I was weak, and yielded, anyone would have done the same. He gave me no peace.—But I've been punished out of all proportion to the little bit of happiness it brought me. There's no more miserable creature alive than I am."
"What interests me," continued Krafft, in a matter-of-fact tone, "is, how you came to choose so far afield from your particular type. It's well enough represented here."
She saw the folly of wasting herself upon him, and gave a deep sigh. Then, however, the same wild change as before came over her face. Stooping, she took his hand and fondled it.
"Heinz! Now that you're here, do one thing—only one—for me! Have pity on me! I've gone through so much—been so unhappy. Tell me—there's only one thing I want to know. Where is he? Will he NEVER come back? For you know. You must know. You have seen him."
She had sunk to her knees; her head was bent over his hand; she laid her cheek against it. Krafft considered her thoughtfully; his eye dwelt with approval on the broad, slender shoulders, the lithe neck—all the sure grace of the crouching body.
"Will you do something for me, Lulu?"
"Anything!"
"Then let your hair down."
He himself drew out the pins and combs that held it, and the black mass fell, and lay in wide, generous waves round face and neck.
"That's the idea! Now go on."