They were upon some board or ground or something that reached far out, and at the end of this was Carrie.

They looked about, and now the thing was sinking, and Minnie heard the low sip of the encroaching water.
"Come on, Carrie," she called, but Carrie was reaching farther out.

She seemed to recede, and now it was difficult to call to her.
"Carrie," she called, "Carrie," but her own voice sounded far away, and the strange waters were blurring everything.

She came away suffering as though she had lost something.

She was more inexpressibly sad thus she had ever been in life.
It was this way through many shifts of the tired brain, those curious phantoms of the spirit slipping in, blurring strange scenes, one with the other.