When I endured the ignominy of Richard Dawson's kisses, when he would hold me in his arms with his face against mine and I felt that nothing worse could happen to me, I used to keep wondering all the time what Anthony Cardew would think of me when he knew.
The thought made me desperate.

I could have slit my nose and chin, defaced myself like St.Ursula and her maidens, so that I should cease to be desirable to Richard Dawson.

But there were my grandparents, and the disgrace which I must buy back for them by giving myself.
Then one day, being in great misery, it occurred to me that I would write a letter to Anthony Cardew.

I was quite sure that I should be dead before he received it, for I knew I should not live long with Richard Dawson as his wife, if indeed I were not saved before that.

I was glad to think that I was growing thin; that I was languid on the least exertion, and had no appetite for my food.