She saw in it the peace she had lost, and yet knew that through him she had lost her peace for ever.
It was perhaps the last time.

Never again, perhaps, after the morning had broken, should she look on what she loved best on earth.

She would be gone, ruined, dead perhaps.

And he?
He would be still himself.

He would remember her half carelessly, half in wonder, as a woman who had once been almost his friend.