"Then why have you come?"
"I heard that you were ill."
She drew herself up proudly and pushed back the hair from her face.
"I am quite well and I did not send for you."
"I know that, but I came all the same—there was no reason why I should not come. I am glad to find that your maid exaggerated, and that you are all right."
"No," she repeated, interrupting him, "I did not send for you and you ought not to have come. But since you are here, since you are here, I want to ask you—why you did it … why?—why?"
Her words were broken by sobs and her hands sought blindly for support, so that Paul was afraid, and repented that he had come. He took her hands and led her to the couch where they had sat together on other evenings, placing her in the corner where the weight of other women of the family had worn a sort of niche, and seated himself beside her, but he let go her hands.
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