the world.

Sometimes she fancied that the sound of voices came muffled through the
fog that hung impenetrably upon the great slope. And when this fancy
caught her, her spirit drifted back very swiftly to the near
neighbourhood of that inert and frozen body that lay so helpless in the
dark. For that strange freedom of the spirit seemed to her to be highly
dangerous and in a fashion wrong. It would be a terrible thing if they
found and buried the body, and the spirit were left alone to wander for
ever homeless on that desolate mountain-side. She could not imagine a
fate more awful.

At the same time, being free from the body, she knew no physical pain,
and she shrank from returning before she need, knowing well the anguish
of suffering that awaited her. The desolation and loneliness made her
unhappy in a vague and not very comprehensible fashion, but she did not
suffer actively. That would come later when return became imperative.
Till then she flitted to and fro, intangible as gossamer, elusive as the
snow. She wondered what Apollo would say if he could see her thus. Even
he would fail to catch her now. She pictured the strong arms closing upon
her, and clasping--emptiness. That thought made her a little cold, and
sent her floating back to make sure that the lifeless body was still
there.

And as she went, drifting through the silence, there came to her the
thought that Scott would be unutterably shocked if they brought her back
to him dead. It was strange how the memory of him haunted her that night.
It almost seemed as if his spirit were out there in the great waste,
seeking hers.