It had been remarked that she had of late been despondent and in ill health.
Vandover threw the paper down and straightened up, naked and dripping, putting both hands to his head.

In a low voice under his breath he said: "What have I done?
What have I done now ?" Like the sudden unrolling of a great scroll he saw his responsibility for her death and for the ruin of that something in her which was more than life.

What would become of her now?
And what would become of him?
For a single brief instant he tried to persuade himself that Ida had consented after all.

But he knew that this was not so.

She had consented, but he had forced her consent; he was none the less guilty.
And then in that dreadful moment when he saw things in their true light, all the screens of conventionality and sophistry torn away, the words that young Haight had spoken came back to him.