'It makes all the difference in the world. It is horrible to think of
your contempt. I feel your goodness and your purity. I can hardly bear my
own unworthiness. You turn your eyes away from me as though I were
unclean.'
She turned her chair a little and looked at him. She was astonished at
the change in his appearance. His hideous obesity seemed no longer
repellent, for his eyes wore a new expression; they were incredibly
tender now, and they were moist with tears. His mouth was tortured by a
passionate distress. Margaret had never seen so much unhappiness on a
man's face, and an overwhelming remorse seized her.
'I don't want to be unkind to you,' she said.
'I will go. That is how I can best repay you for what you have done.'
The words were so bitter, so humiliated, that the colour rose to her
cheeks.
'I ask you to stay. But let us talk of other things.'
For a moment he kept silence. He seemed no longer to see Margaret, and
she watched him thoughtfully. His eyes rested on a print of _La Gioconda_
which hung on the wall.
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