It would be easy, it would be a last thrill, a transport of self-abasement and supreme self-proof of her love for Jean Isbel to kiss the Rim rock where his feet had trod and then fling herself down into the depths.

She was the last Jorth.

So the wronged Isbels would be avenged.
"But he would never know--never know--I lied to him!" she wailed to the night wind.
She was lost--lost on earth and to hope of heaven.

She had right neither to live nor to die.

She was nothing but a little weed along the trail of life, trampled upon, buried in the mud.