He stood shame-faced before her; for her eyes were more disconcerting
than when they had looked down on him from their height. They were
tranquil now, full of kind thought and innocence and candour. Of
innocence above all, a luminous innocence, a piercing purity. He was
troubled by her presence; but it was not so much her womanhood that
troubled him as the deep mystery of her youth.

He could not look at it as it looked at him; for in looking at it he
remembered last night and many nights before. Somehow it made him see
the things it could not see, his drunkenness, his folly, his passion,
the villainous naked body of his sin. And it was for their work, and
their marks upon him, that she pitied him.

"Have you had anything to _eat_?" said she.

"Oh, yes, thanks," he answered vaguely.

"When?"

"Well--as far as I can remember it was about eight o'clock last
night."

"Oh--how very thoughtless of me. I am so sorry."

"It's my own fault entirely. I wouldn't have mentioned it, except to
account for my stupidity."

She crossed the room with a quick movement of distress and rang the
bell. With horror he perceived her hospitable intention.