These were parts of the experience--though in fact there had been a good many of them--between which her impression could continue sharply to discriminate.

Before the subsequent passages, much later on, it was to be said, the flame of memory turned to an equalising glow, that of a lamp in some side-chapel in which incense was thick.

The great moment, at any rate, for conscious repossession, was doubtless the first: the strange little timed silence which she had fully gauged, on the spot, as altogether beyond her own intention, but which--for just how long?
should she ever really know for just how long ?--she could do nothing to break.

She was in the smaller drawing-room, in which she always "sat," and she had, by calculation, dressed for dinner on finally coming in.

It was a wonder how many things she had calculated in respect to this small incident--a matter for the importance of which she had so quite indefinite a measure.