How she dreaded his speaking to her, dreaded his questioning her.

She slipped from her seat and went vaguely along the path — vaguely. It was a long way home. She had an idea that she must walk for the rest of her life, wearily, wearily.

Step after step, step after step, and always along the wet, rainy road between the hedges. Step after step, step after step, the monotony produced a deep, cold sense of nausea in her. How profound was her cold nausea, how profound! That too plumbed the bottom. She seemed destined to find the bottom of all things to-day: the bottom of all things. Well, at any rate she was walking along the bottom-most bed — she was quite safe: quite safe, if she had to go on and on for ever, seeing this was the very bottom, and there was nothing deeper.