"I've no doubt you earned your right."
"I'm not reproaching you, dear. I'm simply justifying the plainness of my speech."
He stared at her, but he did not answer.
"Don't think me hard," said she. "I'm saying these things because I care for you. Because—" She rose, and flung her arms out with a passionate gesture towards him. "Oh, my dear—my heart aches for you so that I can't bear it."
She came over to where he sat staring at her, staring half stupefied, half inflamed. She stood beside him, and passed her hand lightly over his hair.
"I only want to help you."
"You can't help me."
"I know I can't. I can only say hard things to you."
She stooped, and her lips swept his hair. For a moment love gave her back her beauty and the enchantment of her youth; it illuminated the house of flesh it dwelt in and inspired. And yet she could not reach him. His soul was on its guard.
"You've come back," she whispered. "You've come back. But you never came till you were driven. That's how I thought you'd come. When you were driven. When there was nobody but me."