Here in the solitude of safety, she began to go over the past, resolutely and systematically.
She had already been so often over the memory of the previous humiliating and unhappy day that she need not revert to it at present.

Since then had she not quarrelled with Harold, whom she had all her life so trusted that her quarrel with him seemed to shake the very foundations of her existence?
As yet she had not remembered perfectly all that had gone on under the shadow of the beech grove.

She dared not face it all at once, even as yet.

Time must elapse before she should dare to cry; to think of her loss of Harold was to risk breaking down altogether.

Already she felt weak.