"For God's sake don't take even that away from me," he said. "Unless you
want me to go to pieces altogether. A crust does just keep one alive.
One can't help thinking what a fine, strong chap one might be if one
wasn't always hungry."
She felt so sorry for him. He looked such a boy, with the angry tears in
his clear blue eyes, and that little childish quivering of the kind,
strong, sulky mouth.
She rose and took his head between her hands and turned his face towards
her. She had meant to scold him, but changed her mind and laid his head
against her breast and held it there.
He clung to her, as a troubled child might, with his arms clasped round
her, and his head against her breast. And a mist rose up before her, and
strange, commanding voices seemed calling to her.
He could not see her face. She watched it herself with dim half
consciousness as it changed before her in the tawdry mirror above the
mantelpiece, half longing that he might look up and see it, half
terrified lest he should.
With an effort that seemed to turn her into stone, she regained command
over herself.
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