As if Joan hadn't thought of everything.

Her eyes were fixed upon the narrow strip of light between the window curtains.
"You don't think you could, dear," she whispered, "if I didn't do anything wicked any more.

But just let things take their course." "You see, dear," she went on, her face still turned away, "I thought it all finished.

It will be hard for me to go back to him, knowing as I do now that he doesn't want me.

I shall always feel that I am in his way.
And Hilda," she added after a pause, "she will hate me." Joan looked at the white patient face and was silent.