He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. And this though he was evidently passionately in love with her. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr.
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