"You're badly hurt."
"Aren't you glad to see me suffer?" he asked grimly.
"I am not glad to see any one suffer."
"Well, never mind about me. But now, you, yourself. Didn't I tell
you to go to your room and rest?"
She was pale, the corners of her mouth were drawn, her eyes were
duller. Neither had she slept. She also suffered, even now. Yet
her courage matched his own. She smiled.
"It makes me crawl, all the way through, to see a woman hurt that
way. Why did you try to climb out of that window? You weren't
walking in your sleep."
"I was trying to get away from you. I thought you were coming. I
thought I heard you--at the door." She looked him full in the face,
searching it for sign of guilt, of confusion. "Was it not enough?"
she added.
The frown on his face only deepened. "That was not true," said he.
"I never came to your door. It was Sally you heard. I'll
confess--I sent her, to get away those--those clothes you saw. I
didn't want--you to see them.
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