The friend watched her bent body, as sobs overcame her. The sneer dissolved from his face. Poor thing! She wasn’t such a plain-looking woman, even now; she had been decent-looking, as a girl. Even those teeth; they might--they might at least thrill a man. Rising silently, she flung herself on her knees beside what had been her husband. Her weight ground the flowers into the carpet; the smell of bruised honey-suckle eddied dizzyingly. With terrible quietness she sobbed and sobbed. The unearthly vigil, on top of the shut-mouthed hours when she had to preserve some calmness, and arrange for the funeral, had been too much; the bars were down, the hysteric flood burst through. At last her agony shook Tom Rice. The woman would cry herself sick. He walked to her side in the dimness; the lamp seemed weaker than before. He stood, uncertain what to do or say. The sobbing pulsed on. He knelt beside her, stroking her shoulders with nervous hand. A twitch of repugnance bothered him at touching her. The stroking had no effect at first; low words of endearment, caressing modulations, came, and his touch became more soothing. The disgust wore off. “There, there! I know it hurts. Don’t take on so. It won’t help. There--” She became sensible of his presence. Her overburdened heart overflowed toward him; few men would have done what he was doing. She turned to him, mouth open wordlessly, pale teeth showing. She clung desperately to his shoulders, while the sobs twisted and wracked her. His arms closed upon her; her head burned against his neck. He smelt the odor of kerosene upon her, where she must have been fixing the lamps; then the acrid newness of the mourning cloth. His body felt unnaturally warm where she lay awkwardly bunched against him. She tried to speak. “He was all I had.” Unnerved again, she threw herself across the plush top, forcing her face into it. He looked back longingly at his deserted chair. No, he had helped calm her; it wasn’t such an unpleasant sensation, despite the smell of kerosene and new goods ... and an unpleasant, dirtier odor that he had feared at first came from the corpse, but now localized as coming from her or her clothes. He knelt beside her again. His touch quieted her; it made him restless. His mind throbbed now with her; under any other circumstances, with a woman so close, he could not hold her so unmovedly. The very vision of her under other circumstances made him more restless; his touch upon her was spasmodic, provocative. Gradually he rose from his knees to a place beside her, sprawled over the plush. His arm rounded her shoulders, and unconsciously drew her toward him. Still sobbing, she threw herself against his bosom. He began to kiss away the tears. The tang of the moist salt in her eyes quickened him. Their lips met. He felt the pressure of those insidious, insistent teeth--their touch tortured him.