He could imagine his friends talking of the affair and laughing. She was a little vulgar; sometime she said I seen and if I had’ve known. But what would grammar matter if he really loved her? He could not make up his mind whether to like her or despise her for what she had done. Of course, he had done it too. His instinct urged him to remain free, not to marry. Once you are married you are done for, it said.
While he was sitting helplessly on the side of the bed in shirt and trouser she tapped lightly at his door and entered. She told him all, that she had made clean breast of it to her mother and that her mother would speak with him that morning. She cried and threw her arms round his neck, saying
-O, Bob! Bob! What am I to do? What am I to do at all?
She would put an end to herself, she said