That Girl of Johnson's — page 180: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S. 169 her brown eyes were soft and gentle, her silken white hair was brushed in waves back from her face and softened by a cap of lace; her voice was what a woman’s voice should be, sweet but firm, low but perfectly modulated. She took Dolores right into her motherly heart, knowing every word of her history so far as her son knew it, knowing, too, with- out being told, that this was the girl her son loved. And the slender, silent girl seemed to melt toward her as toward no one else, though at first it was very bitter this having to accept the hospitality from the other of the man who had been so wronged, the mother of the man who was simply unspeakably kind to her through pity—it was ‘more intensely bitter than she had dreamed it possible anything concerning this friend of hers could be. That there was a depth and breadth in the friendship which she had never fathomed, which she had never attempted to fathom, she was beginning to learn when the bitter thoughts would come that it was cruel—infinitely cruel—to give such ten- der care to her simply from pity. She asked, and she wished no pity. It was one of the things that could not fail to be bitter to her proud nature. Whatever came to her of suffering she could bear as other women bore theirs; she asked and desired no pity from any one, no pity from the man who would not be out of her kindest thought try as hard as she might to keep him from her thoughts. Some way, in some strange, half inarticulate fashion, his words uttered so long, so very long ago, doubtless long ago for- gotten by him, would cling to her thoughts and mingle with the many other bitter thoughts that filled her mind, words that she someway felt held the secret of her sore heart, the hardness of her life and the bitterness of accept- ing this hospitality—just afew words that any one might have uttered, but that could never have so remained 1 in her memory as uttered by him: “ After all there is a sadness in love, Dolores.” And she had been forced to accept the hospitality of his mother—been forced, and with no excuse to place the ac- 4 + s — ~ ~ * ex = Eomicboo <S (e(0)