He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. She crushed the letter in her hand. A faint buzz above the ceiling witnessed that petrography, too, was active. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. . I don’t know. ’ ‘Not dead, miss. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity.
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