But here, in her room, they all were silenced, and only showered kisses upon her body. . . . A feeling of disgust and loathing overcame her at the recollection of those moments. . . . He did not wish anything else from her but the pressure of her hand!
She was instinctively seized by terror in the presence of that man. It would be better, if he did not come at all, if he never came again! Why did he always speak of that which could nevermore be changed?
She now felt like one who had carried a heavy burden for many hours. Her hands lay helpless in her lap; all ber limbs were relaxed; she felt a heavy weight pressing her down. . . .
An old, dim picture of childhood kept stubbornly returning to her; she was sitting somewhere in a distant room upon the floor, playing with a doll. Her mother, whose features she saw but indistinetly, was leaning over her, and with dried-up hand was
