"But the matron wrote to me pressingly," he blurted out. He felt her breast heave convulsively under his face; with her hands she thrust him away.
"God's fool that I am—I should have known; to-day is not visiting day. They have compassion on me—they see my sorrows—it is public talk."
His pulse seemed to stop. "They have talked to thee of me," he faltered.
"I did not ask their pity. But they saw how I suffered—one cannot hide one's heart."
"They have no right to talk," he muttered in sulky trepidation.
"They have every right," she rejoined sharply. "If thou hadst come to see me even once—why hast thou not?"
"I—I—have been travelling in the country with cheap jewellery. The tailoring is so slack."
"Look me in the eyes! Law of Moses? No, it is a lie. God shall forgive thee. Why hast thou not come?"
"I have told thee."
"Tell that to the Sabbath Fire-Woman! Why hast thou not come? Is it so very much to spare me an hour or two a week? If I could go out like some of the patients, I would come to thee. But I have tired thee out utterly—"