"Edith, for God's sake, what do you mean? You're not crazy, are you?"
"Quite possibly I am; I can't tell yet. Or perhaps I can tell. It's like this," she went on, after an instant's thinking. "A half-hour ago, while I was talking to that—that poor creature—before you came up—I was quite aware of being like a woman with a dose of cyanide of potassium in her hand, and doubting whether or not to take it. Well, I took it. I took it and I—died. That is, the Edith who was your wife—died. What survives of her personality is something else. I don't know what it is yet—it's too soon to say—but it isn't your wife.... It's—it's something like that."
"Oh, don't!" he groaned. "Don't talk that way. Come in. You can't stay out here."
She looked over at the house again. He thought she shuddered. "I can't stay out here; but I don't have to go in—there."
"What do you mean? Where are you going?"
"Just now I'm going to Aunt Emily's."
"Very well. I'll send a carriage for you after dinner—if you stay so late."
"No; don't do that."
"Do you mean—?"
"I mean that I may stay there for two or three days—perhaps longer. After that I'll—I'll see."