It seemed as if her soul, with a soul's capacity for suffering, had suddenly withdrawn from her body, had retreated into some unknown fortress, and left in its place a hard, trivial, practical intelligence which tossed off plan after plan for the future detail of life.

As she drove from her house to the hospital she arranged how she would apportion the household in case of a prolonged illness, where she would put the nurses.

Nor was she less clear as to what should be done in case of Vincent's death.

The whole thing unrolled before her like a panorama.
At the hospital, after a little delay, she was guided to Vincent's own room, recently deserted.

A nurse came to tell her that all was going well; Mr.Farron had had a good night, and was taking the anesthetic nicely.