There seemed no refuge left in Magdalen.

There seemed very few comfortable people left in the world, to whom a miserable woman might turn.

Only Wentworth.

_He did not know._ Perhaps Fay would never have turned to him if she had not first confided in and then shrunk from Magdalen.

For the second time in her life she longed feverishly to get away from home, the home to which only a year ago she had been so glad to hurry back, when she had been so restlessly anxious to get away from Italy.