How had this happened?
how had she got into so foul a complication?
When she left New York, she had meant to be a mere spectator in Washington.

Had it entered her head that she could be drawn into any project of a second marriage, she never would have come at all, for she was proud of her loyalty to her husband's memory, and second marriages were her abhorrence.

In her restlessness and solitude, she had forgotten this; she had only asked whether any life was worth living for a woman who had neither husband nor children.

Was the family all that life had to offer?
could she find no interest outside the household?
And so, led by this will-of-the-wisp, she had, with her eyes open, walked into the quagmire of politics, in spite of remonstrance, in spite of conscience.
She rose and paced the room, while Sybil lay on the couch, watching her with eyes half shut.

She grew more and more angry with herself, and as her self-reproach increased, her anger against Ratcliffe faded away.