In the curious naked pain of the thought he looked again to her. She was
sitting there drooped into a muse. He saw a tear fall, and his heart
flared hot. He saw for the first time that one of her shoulders was quite
uncovered, one arm bare, he could see one of her small breasts; dimly,
because it had become almost dark in the room.
'Why are you crying?' he asked, in an altered voice.
She looked up at him, and behind her tears the consciousness of her
situation for the first time brought a dark look of shame to her eyes.
'I'm not crying, really,' she said, watching him half frightened.
He reached his hand, and softly closed it on her bare arm.
'I love you! I love you!' he said in a soft, low vibrating voice, unlike
himself.
She shrank, and dropped her head. The soft, penetrating grip of his hand
on her arm distressed her. She looked up at him.
'I want to go,' she said. 'I want to go and get you some dry things.'
'Why?' he said. 'I'm all right.'
'But I want to go,' she said. 'And I want you to change your things.'
He released her arm, and she wrapped herself in the blanket, looking at
him rather frightened. And still she did not rise.
'Kiss me,' she said wistfully.
He kissed her, but briefly, half in anger.
Then, after a second, she rose nervously, all mixed up in the blanket. He
watched her in her confusion, as she tried to extricate herself and wrap
herself up so that she could walk.
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