"Oh, that! That's nothing at all—nothing now."
"But people are insulting me about you, and...."
"Well—and you?"
The colour rushed to his cheeks and he smote the back of a chair with his clenched fist.
"I tell them...."
"I understand," she said, and her eyes began to shine again. But she only turned away, saying: "I'm sorry you are angry that I came."
"Angry!" he cried, and at the sound of his voice as he said the word their love for each other went thrilling through and through them.
The rain had begun to fall, and it was beating with smart strokes on the window panes.
"You can't go now," he said, "and since you are never to come here again there is something you ought to hear."
She took a seat immediately, unfastened her coat, and slipped it back on to her shoulders.