She could recall each look on the Wanderer's face, each tone of his cold speech, each intonation of her own passionate outpourings.

Her strong memory had retained all, and there was not the slightest break in the continuity of her recollections.

But there was little comfort to be derived from the certainty that she had not been dreaming, and that everything had really taken place precisely as she remembered it.

She would have given all she possessed, which was much, to return to the hour of noon on that same day.
In so far as a very unruly nature can understand itself, Unorna understood the springs of the actions, she regretted and confessed that in all likelihood she would do again as she had done at each successive stage.

Indeed, since the last great outbreak of her heart, she realised more than ever the great proportions which her love had of late assumed; and she saw that she was indeed ready, as she had said, to dare everything and risk everything for the sake of obtaining the very least show of passion in return.