To that she made no
objection. She would get her hat and be with him in a minute.
But she was absent more than ten minutes. When she was alone she stood
before her glass looking at herself, and then she burst into tears. Never
before had she been thus polluted. The embrace had disgusted her. It made
her odious to herself. And if this, the beginning of it, was so bad, how
was she to drink the cup to the bitter dregs? Other girls, she knew, were
fond of their lovers--some so fond of them that all moments of absence
were moments, if not of pain, at any rate of regret. To her, as she stood
there ready to tear herself because of the vileness of her own condition,
it now seemed as though no such love as that were possible to her. For the
sake of this man who was to be her husband, she hated all men. Was not
everything around her base, and mean, and sordid? She had understood
thoroughly the quick divulgings of Mrs. Carbuncle's tidings, the working
of her aunt's anxious mind. The man, now that he had been caught, was not
to be allowed to escape. But how great would be the boon if he would
escape. How should she escape? And yet she knew that she meant to go on
and bear it all.
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