All the fury of her tempestuous soul fell, as the sea falls under a lapse of wind.

She had had it in heart, on her lips, to cry again, "You dog! you brute!" and a hundred other terrible, useless things, but somehow, under the pressure of his gaze, the hardness of his heart, the words on her lips died away.

She looked at him uncertainly for a moment, then, turning, she threw herself on the bed near by, clutched her cheeks and mouth and eyes, and, rocking back and forth in an agony of woe, she began to sob: "Oh, my God! my God! My heart! My life! I want to die! I want to die!" Standing there watching her, there suddenly came to Cowperwood a keen sense of her soul hurt, her heart hurt, and he was moved.
"Aileen," he said, after a moment or two, coming over and touching her quite gently, "Aileen! Don't cry so.

I haven't left you yet.

Your life isn't utterly ruined.