Her wisest course, probably, was to seek for some obliging shopkeeper near Lavender Hill.

Then she could call on Virginia, transact the business she had pretended to discharge yesterday, and there pen a note to Bevis.
Her moods alternated with distracting rapidity.

A hundred times she had resolved that Bevis could be nothing more to her, and again had thought of him with impulses of yearning, trying to persuade herself that he had acted well and wisely.

A hundred times she determined to carry out her idea of yesterday--to quit her husband and resist all his efforts to recall her--and again had all but resigned herself to live with him, accepting degradation as so many wives perforce did.

Her mind was in confusion, and physically she felt far from well.