For the secluded modest cottage would not rack her with the old anxieties, beset her with suspicions....
'My child, you won't possibly have time before the dinner-hour,' she said to Nesta, dismissing her and taking her kiss of comfort with a short and straining look out of the depths.
Those bitter doubts of the sentiments of neighbours are an incipient dislike, when one's own feelings to the neighbours are kind, could be affectionate.

We are distracted, perverted, made strangers to ourselves by a false position.
She heard his voice on a carol.

Men do not feel this doubtful position as women must.

They have not the same to endure; the world gives them land to tread, where women are on breaking seas.

Her Nesta knew no more than the pain of being torn from a home she loved.