"I have long given up thinking of that matter." "Or wishing it, I suppose," she said; and it was apparent that she expected an unhesitating denial of this supposition.
Whatever Gabriel felt, he coolly echoed her words-- "Or wishing it either." A woman may be treated with a bitterness which is sweet to her, and with a rudeness which is not offensive.

Bathsheba would have submitted to an indignant chastisement for her levity had Gabriel protested that he was loving her at the same time; the impetuosity of passion unrequited is bearable, even if it stings and anathematizes--there is a triumph in the humiliation, and a tenderness in the strife.

This was what she had been expecting, and what she had not got.

To be lectured because the lecturer saw her in the cold morning light of open-shuttered disillusion was exasperating.

He had not finished, either.