Then she got the air into her breast.

She walked down the garden path, trembling in every limb, while the child boiled within her.

For a while she could not control her consciousness; mechanically she went over the last scene, then over it again, certain phrases, certain moments coming each time like a brand red-hot down on her soul; and each time she enacted again the past hour, each time the brand came down at the same points, till the mark was burnt in, and the pain burnt out, and at last she came to herself.

She must have been half an hour in this delirious condition.

Then the presence of the night came again to her.