She herself had stood without the window with a bitter longing that he had spoken so to her and a bitter knowledge that he never would.

She was sunk deep in humiliation.
The irony of the position tortured her; it was like a jest of grim selfish gods played off upon ineffectual mortals to their hurt.

And at the bottom of all the thoughts rankled that memory of the extinguished lamp, and the low, hushed voices speaking one to the other in darkness.
Therefore she spoke to give pain and was glad that she gave it, even though it was to the man whom she coveted.
"There's one thing which I don't understand," said Durrance.

"I mean the change which we both noticed in Ethne to-night.

I mistook the cause of it, that's evident.