"What is it? I'm not afraid. Why should I be afraid? There is nothing the matter. I am not so easily frightened. I said I would kill him, but not like that, not like that. Did I say I'd kill him? Yes. And I did! I did! But I didn't mean to. Did I mean to? I don't know. Perhaps I meant to. He says I meant to, and perhaps he knows."
She stood staring in front of her, with blank, unmeaning gaze. Then, giving herself a little shake, she seemed to wake out of a sort of dream; and to be surprised at finding herself where she was.
"What is the matter with me? Am I going mad? This is the room, and yet, although I know it, I can't think what room it is. Something happened to me here which haunts me; and though I'm afraid to try to think what it was, I can't help trying. Why did I come here? It was very silly. It was because he—he told me that—Edwin Lawrence was killed here.
"Edwin Lawrence? What had that man to do with me? Lawrence? I feel as if I ought to know the name. There were two of them, and one—one was killed. Oh, I remember all! I can hear that horrid noise. I can see the knives—the knives! And I can see the blood, as he falls right down upon his face, and the hack, hack, hacking! I didn't do it! I didn't do it! Did I—do it?"
