So she put it for the benefit of society; but this had not been
her idea of things when she had tumbled into Senhouse's arms--nor had it
been his.
Her ruling idea in these days of disenchantment and discomfort--and it was
her ruling idea still--was to preserve appearances. The great, invincible,
fundamental instinct of the class from which she had sprung--to keep
oneself unspotted by the world. The variation upon the text is Senhouse's
own, done in a moment of exasperation over her untiring effort to appear
what she was not and did not want to be. She loved the man sincerely; if
she had been married to him she would have kept faithfully to his side.
But she had no lines; her wedding ring was not of his giving. Without
these assurances she simply could not love him. It came to that.
He had, when they had approached the matter of alliance, put aside
marriage, literal marriage, as out of the question. He took it airily for
granted that she agreed with him. The servitude of the woman which it
implied was to him unspeakably wicked. He could not have treated the
vilest woman in such a manner. But he had reckoned without the woman in
her case. To her, freedom to love, without sanction or obligation,
destroyed love.
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