Now when a woman loves a man--" "But, you see, I don't love George," answered Gabriella, and her awful words seemed to reverberate through the horrified silence that surrounded her.
"Not love him?
O Gabriella! Of course, it's natural that you should feel angry and wounded, and that your pride should resent what looks like an affront to you; but you can't mean in your heart that you've got over caring.

Women don't change so easily.

Why, you're his wife--poor foolish boy that he is--and Florrie--" "So it's Florrie ?" observed Gabriella, with a strangely dispassionate interest.

It was queer, she reflected afterwards, that she had not felt the faintest curiosity about the woman.
"I always suspected that there was something wrong about her," pursued Mrs.Fowler, reassured by the knowledge that she was placing the blame where it belonged according to all the laws of custom and tradition.

"I must say I never liked her manner and her way of dressing, and she made eyes at every man she was introduced to--even at Archibald--" "Well, I didn't believe there was any real harm in her," said Gabriella, in a tone she might have used at one of her mother-in-law's luncheons.
She was still standing near the door, in the very spot where she had paused at her entrance, with her head held high above the black fur at her throat, and one gloved hand playing with a bit of cord on the end of her muff.