It was a sensation of shame which came upon her, a tremor of maidenhood in re-living, swift instant by instant, all that had just passed.

Had she in any way aided in bringing about that confession?
Had she done anything, made a motion, uttered a tone, which broke away the barrier between herself and him?
When she could recover self-consciousness, disembarrass herself of the phantom moments which would not fleet with the rest of time, it was scarcely joy which she read in her heart; apprehension, dismay, lack of courage to look forward beyond this night, these oppressed her.

Then, close upon the haunting reality of his voice, his touch, came inability to believe what had happened.

Had a transient dreamful slumber crept upon her as she sat here alone?
So quickly had the world suffered re-creation, so magical the whelming of old days in a new order, so complete the change in herself.

One word she knew which had power from eternity to do these things, and that word neither he nor she had uttered.