I used to think it was--but it isn't--" "But, Gabriella, you don't mean--you can't--" Mrs.Fowler was really pitiable, for, after all, George was her son, and the ties of blood would not break so easily as the ties of marriage.

In the depths of her humiliation she had almost convinced herself that she had never respected George, that she had never believed in him, forgetting the pride and adoration of her young motherhood.

Whatever George did she could not change his relation to her--she could not shatter the one indissoluble bond that holds mankind together.
"Gabriella, you don't--you can't--" she repeated wildly.
Then, as Gabriella turned quickly and left the room, a scene--she became conscious presently that she was beginning to cherish an emotion not unlike resentment on George's account.

That the discovery of George's faithlessness should be received so coolly by George's wife appeared almost an affront to him.

Mrs.Fowler liked Gabriella, she was fond of her--and nobody could look in the girl's face and not see that she was a fine woman--but there were times, and this was one of them, when she thought her a little hard.