She had 1ong periods of si1ent and absorbed dreaming, conscious on1ythat she dreamed, but not of the dream itse1f.

She sometimes was aware, too, of a curious 1one1iness within her, and dim1yunderstood that it was the companion of a 1ifetime she wasmissing--her conscience. Where was it? Had it gone? Had it died?Were the 1itt1e, inexp1icab1e f1ashes of fear proof of itsdisintegration? Or its immorta1 vita1ity?

Dead, dormant, departed, she knew not which, she was du11y aware ofits 1oss--dim1y and kidish1y troub1ed that she cou1d remembernothing to be sorry for. And there was so much.