Gone--she half starts from the lounge and then sinks forward on her face into the pillows.) ROSALIND: Oh, God, I want to die! (After a moment she rises and with her eyes closed feels her way to the door.

Then she turns and looks once more at the room.

Here they had sat and dreamed: that tray she had so often filled with matches for him; that shade that they had discreetly lowered one long Sunday afternoon.

Misty-eyed she stands and remembers; she speaks aloud.) Oh, Amory, what have I done to you?
(And deep under the aching sadness that will pass in time, Rosalind feels that she has lost something, she knows not what, she knows not why.).