She had been seriously ill. For a few days it made no difference that it was autumn, one of the most beautiful that she might know. She stayed in the front room on a cot with an abundance of cool pillows. The door remained open, for there was a kind of claustrophobia while she scarcely breathed; by lack of oxygen all other capacity for emotion was suspended, and with forced objectively she contemplated the ensuing question, Does cessation of breathing end all emotion?
Manuscripts: Vol. 13
, Article 2.
Available at: http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol13/iss2/2