“Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. But a girl is soiled not only by evil but by the proximity of evil, and a reputation for rashness may do her as serious an injury as really reprehensible conduct. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. You cannot refuse me this. I believe I have always been in love with you. I am five-and-thirty, and I have knocked about in the world and tasted the quality of life. She rested her head upon his shoulder. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. Certain reserves went down on both sides.
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