"Tony—you don't want to know me any longer—you want to forget we ever were friends. There's no good denying it, for I can see it."
She stood motionless, her lips white, her hands clenched in front of her.
"It's true—I can see it," he repeated.
She did not speak. Her memories were calling very loud, and there were tears in the voices, softening the shame.
"You can't bear the thought of having once been my friend."
Tears were rising in her throat, and with her tears the little school-girl who had run away came back, and showed her face again before she went for ever.
"Oh, it's hurt me!" she cried. "You don't know how it's hurt me!"
"To know I was a bad 'un?" He grasped the shaking hand she thrust out before her.
"Yes—I can't bear to think...."
"But I've changed—I swear I have. I'm going to live a decent life; and you're going to help me—by just saying you believe I can."