Clara Bowles tried to shove her thoughts out of her brain as she drove home.  She tried not to process what she had heard.  She tried to forget about what he had brought up.  It was too much.  Too much sadness, too much memory, too much...

She lost her train of thought.  Clara tried to remember what she was so confused about, but she didn't know.  As she pulled into her driveway, she remembered.  Montag's words echoed in her ears.  My goodness, she thought.  He was right.

No no no no no no no.  She tried to shove those thoughts out of her head.  She called the fire department and reported Montag, so he wouldn't corrupt any more minds.  That Montag is digging around where no one ever should, she thought.  Then she broke down again.  She now spoke aloud, to no one but herself, "Oh no, he's right.  My children hate me, my husbands hated me, and I stood by and watched!" she said, more hysterically than before.  "I have no--." She fell to the ground.  She had habitually taken sleeping pills when she walked into the door.

She woke up several hours later, sluggish, and she felt dried tears on her face, and said, "I wonder what could have made me so upset."  She promptly took more pills and returned to her unconscious state.