What a pang shot through his heart! There would be an irresistible delight in playing on the emotions of this woman.

He could no more help it than the shame that surged over him at consciousness of his littleness.

He already loved her, she was all he had left to love, he would end in a day or a week or a month by worshipping her.

Through her he was going to suffer.

Peace would now never abide in his soul.
"Daren, you were never like this--as a boy," she said, in wondering distress.
"Like what ?" "You're hard.