He pushed a chair towards her and held it, looking at her
urgently. She sat down, mechanically, and he seated himself near
her; but in a moment he got up, restlessly, and stood before her. She
remained seated, like a troubled creature who had passed through the
stage of restlessness.
"I say nothing is to be gained by my seeing you," she went on, "and yet
I am very glad you came. Now I can tell you what I feel. It is a selfish
pleasure, but it is one of the last I shall have." And she paused, with
her great misty eyes fixed upon him. "I know how I have deceived and
injured you; I know how cruel and cowardly I have been. I see it
as vividly as you do--I feel it to the ends of my fingers." And she
unclasped her hands, which were locked together in her lap, lifted them,
and dropped them at her side. "Anything that you may have said of me in
your angriest passion is nothing to what I have said to myself."
"In my angriest passion," said Newman, "I have said nothing hard of
you. The very worst thing I have said of you yet is that you are the
loveliest of women." And he seated himself before her again, abruptly.
She flushed a little, but even her flush was pale. "That is because you
think I will come back. But I will not come back. It is in that hope
you have come here, I know; I am very sorry for you.
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