Yet shamed one moment at the consciousness she would write Glenn again and again, and exultant the next with the clamouring love, she seemed to have climbed beyond the self that had striven to forget.

She would remember and think though she died of longing.
Carley, like a drowning woman, caught at straws.

What a relief and joy to give up that endless nagging at her mind! For months she had kept ceaselessly active, by associations which were of no help to her and which did not make her happy, in her determination to forget.

Suddenly then she gave up to remembrance.

She would cease trying to get over her love for Glenn, and think of him and dream about him as much as memory dictated.