Now the room and everything in it seemed to have been created for all time to be the accomplices and ministers of her degradation.

They were well acquainted with her and it; they held foreknowledge of her, as the pier-glass held her dishonoured and dishevelled image.
She thought of her dead father's house, the ivy-coated Deanery in the south, and of the small white bedroom, a girl's bedroom that had once known her and would never know her again.

She thought of her father and mother, and was glad that they were dead.

Once she wondered why their death had been God's will.

Now she saw very clearly why.