It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. I should say that having a doubt was enough to condemn it. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing.
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