Basely, with an abandonment of womanhood, she had mockingly perjured her soul with a vile lie.

She writhed, she shook under the whip of this inconceivable fact.

Lost! Lost! She wailed her misery.

She might as well be what she had made Jean Isbel think she was.

If she had been shamed before, she was now abased, degraded, lost in her own sight.