At least it was true from the childish part of her nature.

He sat gloomy and uneasy.
She took the apron from her tear-stained face, and looked at him.

It was true, in her moments of roused exposure she was a beautiful woman--a beautiful woman.

At this moment, with her flushed, tear-stained, wilful distress, she was beautiful.
"Tell me," she challenged.

"Tell me! Tell me what I've done.