You know you are glad.

I never was like this but twice over in the quarantine yonder; and both times you found me.

I am afraid of you.' 'Afraid of me ?' 'Yes.

You seem to come like my own anger, my own malice, my own--whatever it is--I don't know what it is.

But I am ill-used, I am ill-used, I am ill-used!' Here the sobs and the tears, and the tearing hand, which had all been suspended together since the first surprise, went on together anew.
The visitor stood looking at her with a strange attentive smile.