Dark circles lay round her eyes. In
one hand she held a bunch of violets.
She looked back at June, no smile on her lips; and with those great
dark eyes fastened on her, the girl, for all her startled anger, felt
something of the old spell.
She spoke first, after all.
"What have you come for?" But the feeling that she herself was being
asked the same question, made her add: "This horrible case. I came to
tell him--he has lost it."
Irene did not speak, her eyes never moved from June's face, and the girl
cried:
"Don't stand there as if you were made of stone!"
Irene laughed: "I wish to God I were!"
But June turned away: "Stop!" she cried, "don't tell me! I don't want to
hear! I don't want to hear what you've come for. I don't want to hear!"
And like some uneasy spirit, she began swiftly walking to and fro.
Suddenly she broke out:
"I was here first. We can't both stay here together!"
On Irene's face a smile wandered up, and died out like a flicker of
firelight. She did not move. And then it was that June perceived under
the softness and immobility of this figure something desperate and
resolved; something not to be turned away, something dangerous. She
tore off her hat, and, putting both hands to her brow, pressed back the
bronze mass of her hair.
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