The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. “Forgive me,” he said. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped.
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