pity upon
me!”
Boldwood
burst out.
“God’s
sake, yes
– I am
come to
that low,
lowest
stage – to
ask a
woman for
pity!
Still, she
is you –
she is
you.”
Bathsheba
commanded
herself
well. But
she could
hardly get
a clear
voice for
what came
instinctively
to her
lips:
“There is
little
honour to
the woman
in that
speech.”
It was
only
whispered,
for
something
unutterably
mournful
no less
than
distressing
in this
spectacle
of a man
showing
