shame.

"Do"--her voice was low--"do you know about me?"

"Yes, I know about you."

"You know--and--and still you talk to me? I don't understand. Why did
you come down here? You don't belong in Scarborough Square."

"Why not? I have no one who needs me." I held my bit of sewing off,
looked at it carefully. "Other women have their homes, their husbands
and children, or their families, or duties or obligations of some sort,
which they cannot leave, even if they wanted to know, to understand
better how they might--" I leaned forward. "I think you can help me,
Lillie, help me very much."

"Help you--" Half lifting herself up, Lillie stared at me as if not
understanding, then the flush in her face deepened. "I help anybody!
Oh, my God! if I only could! If I only could!"

"I'm sure you can." I picked up the flower, which again had fallen.
"The doctor says you can go in the country soon, but before you go--"

"I hope I won't live long enough to go anywhere, but before I go away
for good if I could tell you what you could tell to others, and make
them understand how different it is from what they think, make them
know the awfulness--awfulness--"

She turned her head away, buried it in her arms, her body shaking in
convulsive sobs. The bird on the apple-tree had stopped its singing,