Denise glanced at him, half furtively, and that one glance seemed to make the metal of her purpose melt and flow into a stream of living fire. She turned with an inarticulate cry, and threw back her hood, letting the sunlight fall upon her face.
“Lord, how can I, I who remember all the past!”
“Denise!”
He was up, leaning towards her, stretching out his hands.
“God! What is all that—to me! Can you not understand?”
She swayed, closing her eyes, her hands feeling the air as though she were blind.
“My heart—oh—my heart!”
“Denise!”
“May the sin of it be forgiven.”
She was on her knees beside the bed, her arms flung out over it, her face hidden in the coverlet.