"I'm trembling because you are here, and I'm pale because I'm tired, and I'm tired because I've been up all night long."
"What!" he exclaimed.
I nodded.
"Oh, yes. Fred was drunk, and he wanted me with him; so I walked with him in L—— Park, and then he fell asleep on a bench with his head on my lap."
He jumped to his feet, and looking up, I saw his face. It was so black with astounded fury that I thought he was going to strike me; but I was not afraid of him. I felt only a sudden sense of wonder and pain. His voice, though low, had a curious sound of suppressed rage.
"Do you mean to tell me that you have been out all night with that man?"
I looked into his face, and then I nodded, without speaking. He gave me a hard look, and then he laughed shortly, brutally.
"So you are that sort, are you?" he said.
"Yes," I returned defiantly, "I am that sort. Fred was good to me. He took me on trust. If I had left him last night, he might have gone on drinking, or a policeman would have arrested him. You can't imagine the state he was in—just like a helpless child."
While I was speaking he kept staring at me. I was so nervous that I wrenched my hands together. And then I saw his face change, just as if it were broken, and in place of that hard, sneering expression there came that beautiful look that I had seen on his face that day on the train when he had asked me if I would like to go to school.