Her efforts to be cheerful had indeed been somewhat touching, but they had met with small encouragement.
She thought the green-clothed country lovely as the train sped through it, and a lump rose in her small throat because she knew she might have been so happy if she had not been so frightened and miserable.

The thing which had been dawning upon her took clearer, more awful form.

Incidents she had tried to explain and excuse to herself, upon all sorts of futile, simple grounds, began to loom up before her in something like their actual proportions.

She had heard of men who had changed their manner towards girls after they had married them, but she did not know they had begun to change so soon.

This was so early in the honeymoon to be sitting in a railway carriage, in a corner remote from that occupied by a bridegroom, who read his paper in what was obviously intentional, resentful solitude.