That action, of which she was clearly unconscious, so naively, so almost automatically was it done, nearly put an end to Hilary's determination.
"Now you must go," he said.
The little model choked, grew very red, and then quite white.
"Aren't I even to say good-bye to Mr.Stone ?" Hilary shook his head.
"He'll miss me," she said desperately.

"He will.

I know he will!" "So shall I," said Hilary.

"We can't help that." The little model drew herself up to her full height; her breast heaved beneath the clothes which had made her Hilary's.

She was very like "The Shadow" at that moment, as though whatever Hilary might do there she would be--a little ghost, the spirit of the helpless submerged world, for ever haunting with its dumb appeal the minds of men.
"Give me your hand," said Hilary.
The little model put out her not too white, small hand.