She was merely the mouthpiece of something vast, of some blind destructive force that was rending her.
She swayed against the railings, clinging to them with both hands.
Even as she spoke her voiceless whisper was drowned in a sound but very little louder.

There was a distant stir, a movement as of waking bees in the house.
He had not heard her.

He was listening intently.
"Go back instantly and shut the window," he said, and in a moment she felt he was gone.
She crept feebly up the stairs to her room and sank down again on the couch, broken, half dead.
"I shall see him no more.

I shall see him no more," she said to herself, twisting her hands.

What a travesty, what a mockery that one hurried moment had been! What a parting that was no parting! He had no heart.
He did not really love her.
Through her stupor she felt rather than heard a movement in the house.
She stole out of her room to the head of the grand staircase.