n was a person of value, for it
was so much worse, it opened the door to so long a procession of noble
and undesired desires, that he had not been able to destroy. That same
persuasion in himself. He counted it a fresh grievance against her, and
planned to pay it out with cruelty, that she had made him waste all his
efforts. For though he had certainly made her cry, he could not count
that any great triumph, since under the shower of her weeping her gaiety
was dancing like a draggled elf. "Och me!" she was saying. "You want me
to give you an explanation? But when I've got an appointment to talk
the matter over with the head of the firm, what for would I waste my
time talking it over with the junior partner?" And she began to type as
if she was playing a jig.

He made a furious movement of the hands. She thought contemptuously,
"The wee thing he is! Even if he struck me I should not be afraid. Now,
if it were Yaverland, I should be terrified...." The idea struck through
her like a pleasure, until there fell upon her as the completion of a
misery that had seemed complete, like the last extreme darkness which
falls on a dark night when the last star is found by the clouds, the
recollection that Yaverland also was detestable. Ah, this was a piece of
foolishness between Mr. Philip and herself. In a world where misery was
the prevailing climate, where there were men like Yaverland, who could
effortlessly deal out pain right and left by simply being themselves, it
was so foolish that one who had surely had a natural turn for being
nice, who had been so very nice that firelit evening when they had
talked secrets, should put himself about to hurt her. Her eyes followed
him imploringly as he went towards the door, and she cried out silently
to him, begging him to be kind. But when he turned and looked over his
shoulder she remembered his tyranny, and hardened her piteous gaze into
a stare of loathing. It added to her sense of living in a deep cell of
madness, fathoms below the rays of reason, that she had an illusion that
in his eyes she saw just that same change from piteousness to loathing.
For of course it could not be so.

Her quivering lips said gallantly to the banged door: "Well, there is my
wurrk. I will forget my petty pairsonal troubles in my wurrk, just as
men do!" And she typed away, squeezing out such drops of pride of
craftsmanship as can be found in that mechanical exercise, making no
mistakes, and ending the line