He gazed at her as she stood smiling gently at him smiling to help her hide the ache at her heart, the terror before the vision of the old women of the tenement gutters, earning the wages, not of sin, not of vice, not of stupidity, but of indecision, of over-hopefulness of weakness. Here was the kind of smile that hurts worse than tears, that takes the place of tears and sobs and moans.
Word Of The Day