As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. It had been cut down before life was extinct, but a ball from one of the soldiers had pierced his heart. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you.
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