For her, that whole side of human beings was simply revolting.

In the far back recesses of her mind she knew and felt that caresses and such things might be good if one loved--passionately loved--but in the abstract, just because of the attraction of sex, they were hideous.

No man had ever had the conceded tip of her little finger, although she had been forced to submit to unspeakable exhibitions of passion from Ladislaus, her husband.
For her, Tristram appeared a satyr, but she was no timid nymph, but a fierce panther ready to defend herself! He saw her look and drew back--cooled.
The thing was going to be much more difficult than he had even thought; he must keep himself under complete control, he knew now.

So he turned away to the window and glanced out on the wet park.
"My mother called upon you to-day, I believe," he said.

"I asked her not to expect you to be at home.