She wished she could have seen him; the slightest, the most momentary, contact with such a spirit would have ennobled her own character and made ignoble thoughts and ignoble acts thereafter impossible to her forever.
"Have they found the body, Rossmore ?" asked the wife.
"Yes, that is, they've found several.

It must be one of them, but none of them are recognizable." "What are you going to do ?" "I am going down there and identify one of them and send it home to the stricken father." "But papa, did you ever see the young man ?" "No, Gwendolen-why ?" "How will you identify it ?" "I--well, you know it says none of them are recognizable.

I'll send his father one of them--there's probably no choice." Gwendolen knew it was not worth while to argue the matter further, since her father's mind was made up and there was a chance for him to appear upon that sad scene down yonder in an authentic and official way.

So she said no more--till he asked for a basket.
"A basket, papa?
What for ?" "It might be ashes.".