That day of the Retreat how afraid I was! John could not protect me, no one could.

And I was ashamed of myself! How ashamed, how miserable.

And I was afraid because I thought of myself more than of any one else--always.

I had fine ideals but--in practice--it was only that--that I always was selfish.

Now, for the first time ever, I care for some one more than myself and suddenly I am afraid of death no longer.