Miss Keating turned to the looking-glass and put on her veil. Her back was toward Kitty. The two women's faces were in the glass, the young and the middle-aged, each searching for the other. Kitty's face was tearful and piteous; it pleaded with the other face in the glass, a face furtive with hate, that hung between two lifted arms behind a veil.
Miss Keating's hands struggled with her veil.
"I mayn't tie it for you?" said Kitty.
"No, thank you."
There was a knock at the door, and Miss Keating started.
"It's the men for your boxes. Come into my room and say good bye."
"I prefer to say good bye here, if it's all the same to you. Good bye."
"You won't even shake hands with me? Well, if you won't—why should you?"
"I am holding out my hand. If you won't take it——"
"No, no. I don't want to take it."