Their hearts are different." That was her present purpose, but, as will be seen, she changed it afterwards.
But ever and again as she strengthened her resolution, her thoughts would run from her, carrying her back to the sweet rapture of some moment in which the man had been gracious to her; and even while she was struggling to teach herself to hate him, she would lean her head on one side, as though by doing so she might once more touch his brow with hers; and unconsciously she would put out her fingers, as though they might find their way into his hand.

And then she would draw them back with a shudder, as though recoiling from the touch of an adder.
Hours had passed over her before she began to think whence had come the paper which Trendellsohn had found in her desk; and then, when the idea of some fraud presented itself to her, that part of the subject did not seem to her to be of great moment.

It mattered but little who had betrayed her.

It might be Rebecca, or Souchey, or Ruth, or Lotta, or all of them together.

His love, his knowledge of her whom he loved, should have carried him aloft out of the reach of any such poor trick as that! What mattered it now who had stolen her key, and gone like a thief to her desk, and laid this plot for her destruction?
That he should have been capable of being deceived by such a plot against her was enough for her.