The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. . "We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. "But you are tired!" "I want to go over the story again. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. " "That's me," interposed Jonathan; "a thief-taker is always a murderer in the eyes of a thief.
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