” “I borrowed it,” said Ann Veronica in a casual tone, with white despair in her heart. See paragraph 1. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. Here, might be seen a poor fellow whose teeth were knocked down his throat, spluttering out the most tremendous menaces, and gesticulating like a madman: there, another, whose nose was partially slit, vented imprecations and lamentations in the same breath. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. It has come,—and sooner than you expected. ” She batted his arms and slapped him, angrily twisting from his grasp. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly.
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