Her dreamy unpractical temperament, keyed up to the great act of abnegation, had not paused to consider what the consequences might be to herself.
Lying there in the darkness of her room, she recalled how that revelation had been made to her.

It was the first night after her arrival in London, in the drawing-room of a private hotel near Russell Square, where she had intended staying for a few days while she sought for some kind of employment.

There was a group of women seated round the fireplace, talking.

She was seated by herself some distance away, turning over the leaves of a magazine, when a loud remark by one of the speakers startled her into an attitude of listening fear.

"Have you read about this Cornwall murder ?" The words, cold and distinct, had broken into her sad reflections like a stone dropped from a great height.