“Then can you read my history in mine?” asked the man.
“Yes.”
“Do they say that I am a brute?”
“Yes.”
“Plainly?”
“Quite plainly.”
“My God! Why did not some one tell me that secret before? We go about thinking our faces conceal the very things they shout aloud!”
He looked again at her face.
“Yes, yours speaks of sorrow—”
A silence then—