altered, distorted, smeared with an intangible effect of shame. In the
vague gloom of the middle distance, between lamp and window, she noticed
that his shoulders were crouched, like those of some shambling tramp.
The frowsy shadows of a stubble beard lay on his jaw and throat. His
clothes were crumpled and hung awry; his boots were stained with mud.
The silk hat on the piano told its battered story with dumb eloquence.

Lifting the lamp, she moved forward a step, and threw its light upon his
face. A little groan sounded involuntarily upon her lips. Out of a mask
of unpleasant features, swollen with drink and weighted by the physical
craving for rest and sleep, there stared at her two bloodshot eyes,
shining with the wild light of hysteria. The effect of dishevelled hair,
relaxed muscles, and rough, half-bearded lower face lent to these eyes,
as she caught their first glance, an unnatural glare. The lamp shook
in her hand for an instant. Then, ashamed of herself, she held out her
other hand fearlessly to him.

"Tell me all about it, Theron," she said calmly, and with a soothing,
motherly intonation in her voice.

He did not take the hand she offered, but suddenly, with a wailing moan,
cast himself on his knees at her feet. He was so tall a man that the
movement could have no grace. He abased his head awkwardly, to bury
it among the folds of the skirts at her ankles. She stood still for a
moment, looking down upon him. Then, blowing out the light, she reached
over and set the smoking lamp on the piano near by. The daylight made
things distinguishable in a wan, uncertain way, throughout the room.

"I have come out of hell, for the sake of hearing some human being speak
to me like that!"