Oh, it was all over; even if there had been no gulf of death between them, it was all over.

She had deliberately chosen to forget, under the inspiration of her art she had forgotten.

It had usurped her thought, her ambition, her every energy.

She had won her way through the throng, yet the very struggle of such winning had sufficed to crowd him out from memory had left the past as barren as was the desert amid the dreariness of which they had parted.

He set his teeth hard, striking his clenched fist against the cushioned arm of the chair.