She reached the station, and mingling with a crowd of excursionists who had come from the river on the other side, took her place in the train unnoticed. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. “Thank you. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy.
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