Mann's eyes, full of sympathy. "But goodbye," she
added, and opened the door, "I'm going."
"Alone?" asked Norman, involuntarily.
"Yes, alone," replied Mae. "Have you any objections, boys?" Eric and
Albert were talking busily and did not hear her. Norman Mann held open
the door for her to pass out, and smiled as she thanked him. She smiled
back. She came very near saying, "I'm sorry I was rude the other day,
forgive me," and he came very near saying, "May I go with you, Miss
Mae?" But they neither of them spoke, and Norman closed the door with
a sigh, and Mae walked away with a sigh. It was only a little morning's
experience, sharp words, misunderstandings; but the child was young, far
from home and her mother, and it seemed hard to her. She was in a very
wild mood, a very hard mood, and yet all ready to be softened by a kind,
sympathetic word, so nearly do extremes of emotion meet.
"There's no one to care a pin about me," said she to herself, "not a
pin. I have a great mind to go and take the veil or drown myself in the
Tiber.
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