And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. And I affirm to you, on my own conviction, that she who falls, because she has not strength granted her to struggle with affliction, may be reclaimed,—may repent, and be forgiven,—even as she, whose sins, 'though many, were forgiven her'. So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. And yet the moment I am safely out of the way you are content to dress yourself in my rags, to go and get yourself popular and admired and successful, all on my reputation. When she awoke, the sun was high in Heaven. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. A quick flush stained her cheeks. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand.
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