So I answered, bluntly: "Madam, I certainly did think so.

It seemed a natural conclusion to draw from the course of events.

He is young, undeniably handsome, and on his uncle's death will be fairly wealthy--what more could you desire?
besides, he was your husband's friend--" "And for that reason I would never marry him!" she interrupted me with a decided gesture.

"Even if I liked him sufficiently, which I do not" (oh, miserable traitress), "I would not run the risk of what the world would say of such a marriage." "How, madam?
Pardon me if I fail to comprehend you." "Do you not see, conte ?" she went on in a coaxing voice, as of one that begged to be believed, "if I were to marry one that was known to have been my husband's most intimate friend, society is so wicked--people would be sure to say that there had been something between us before my husband's death--I KNOW they would, and I could not endure such slander!" "Murder will out" they say! Here was guilt partially declaring itself.
A perfectly innocent woman could not foresee so readily the condemnation of society.

Not having the knowledge of evil she would be unable to calculate the consequences.