Did she want Paul Morel, and did he know she wanted him?
What a subtle infamy upon her.
She felt as if her whole soul coiled into knots of shame.
Agatha was dressed first, and ran downstairs.

Miriam heard her greet the lad gaily, knew exactly how brilliant her grey eyes became with that tone.

She herself would have felt it bold to have greeted him in such wise.

Yet there she stood under the self-accusation of wanting him, tied to that stake of torture.

In bitter perplexity she kneeled down and prayed: "O Lord, let me not love Paul Morel.