Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things would have been different. She gloried in it: he needed her. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. He pulsed and thrust as he released himself into her body.
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