She knew what would be said--she had heard it so
often of others! The recollection bathed her in misery. The men would
probably back Gannett to "do the decent thing"; but the ladies' eye-brows
would emphasize the worthlessness of such enforced fidelity; and after
all, they would be right. She had put herself in a position where Gannett
"owed" her something; where, as a gentleman, he was bound to "stand the
damage." The idea of accepting such compensation had never crossed her
mind; the so-called rehabilitation of such a marriage had always seemed to
her the only real disgrace. What she dreaded was the necessity of having
to explain herself; of having to combat his arguments; of calculating, in
spite of herself, the exact measure of insistence with which he pressed
them. She knew not whether she most shrank from his insisting too much or
too little. In such a case the nicest sense of proportion might be at
fault; and how easy to fall into the error of taking her resistance for a
test of his sincerity! Whichever way she turned, an ironical implication
confronted her: she had the exasperated sense of having walked into the
trap of some stupid practical joke.
Beneath all these preoccupations lurked the dread of what he was thinking.
Sooner or later, of course, he would have to speak; but that, in the
meantime, he should think, even for a moment, that there was any use in
speaking, seemed to her simply unendurable.
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