Gradually, along devious ways, she came to the thought that life had done
with her. It seemed to her that life said to her, "Woman, what have I to
do with thee?" The man who had sworn to protect her could not endure to
look at her. The man who had vowed that he loved her soul shrank before
her face. She had never been a friend to women. Why should they wish to
be her friends now? They would not wish it. And if they did she felt
their friendship would be useless to her, more--horrible. She would
rather have shown her shattered face to a thousand men than to ten women.
She had never "bothered" much about religion. No God seemed near her now.
She had no sense of being chastened because she was loved. On the other
hand, she did feel as if she had been caught by a torturer who did not
mean to let her go.
It became obvious to her that there was no place for her in life, and
presently she returned to the conclusion that, totally unloved, she could
not continue to exist.
She began definitely to contemplate self-destruction.
She looked at the little arrow of light beyond the boat's prow. Like that
little arrow she must go out into the darkness. When? Could she go
to-night? If not, probably she could never go at all by her own will and
act. It should be done to-night then, abruptly, without much thought. For
thought is dangerous and often paralysing.
She spoke to the boat boy. He answered.
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