All the dignity had gone from her.

She looked as shamed as a dog stealing back after it had been whipped.

She knew she was shamed.

He saw she knew it: the despairing rocking of her arms proved it; yet she was coming back to him in little runs.
Pity, chivalry, oh, surely love itself, lifted him to his feet, and all else passed out of him save an imperious desire to save her as much humiliation as he could--to give her back a few of those garments of pride and self-respect that had fallen from her.

At least she should not think that she had to come all the way to him.