"I loved you so—I—loved—you so!" she said dully.
"Hermy," he cried, catching hold of her dress, "forgive me—just this once, for God's sake! I ain't got nobody in the world but you—forgive me!" And now his pleading was broken by fierce sobs, and he sought to hide his tear-stained face in the folds of her dress, but she drew it quickly from him, shrinking away almost as if she feared him.
"A thief!" she whispered, "oh, God—my brother a thief! I don't seem—able to—think. Go away—go away, I—must be—alone!"
"Hermy, dear, I swear—oh, I swear I'll—"
"Go away!"
"Oh, Hermy, I didn't think you'd ever—turn away—from me."
"Go away!"
"Oh, Hermy—won't you listen?"
"I can't! Not now. Go away."
Sobbing, the boy got to his feet, and taking his hat, crossed slow-footed to the door; there he paused to look back at her, but her staring eyes gazed through him and, turning hopelessly away, he brushed his sleeve across his cheek and, treading slow and heavily along the passage, was gone.