She was vexed almost to tears. She was touched too. And when he
stood still at some distance as if suddenly rooted to the ground wagging
his tail slowly and watching her intensely with his shining eyes another
fear came to her. She imagined herself gone and the creature sitting on
the brink, its head thrown up to the sky and howling for hours. This
thought was not to be borne. Then my shout reached her ears.
She told me all this with simplicity. My voice had destroyed her
poise--the suicide poise of her mind. Every act of ours, the most
criminal, the most mad presupposes a balance of thought, feeling and
will, like a correct attitude for an effective stroke in a game. And I
had destroyed it. She was no longer in proper form for the act. She was
not very much annoyed. Next day would do. She would have to slip away
without attracting the notice of the dog. She thought of the necessity
almost tenderly. She came down the path carrying her despair with lucid
calmness. But when she saw herself deserted by the dog, she had an
impulse to turn round, go up again and be done with it.
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