. Wood, leaping from the bed. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. ” “It’s impossible.
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