So then, good-bye till we meet.' He was experiencing a novel nip of torment, of just the degree which takes a partial appeasement from the inflicting of it, and calls up a loathed compassion.

She might have been in his arms for a step, though she would not have been the better loved.
He was allowed his escape, bearing with him enough of husband to execrate another enslaving pledge of his word, that begat a frenzy to wreak some caresses on the creature's intolerably haunting image.

Of course, he could not return to her.

How would she receive him?
There was no salt in the thought of it; she was too submissive.
However, there would be fun with Chummy Potts on the drive to Canleys; fun with Rufus Abrane at Mrs.Cowper Quillett's; and with the Countess Livia, smothered, struggling, fighting for life with the title of Dowager.

A desire for unbridled fun had hold of any amount of it, to excess in any direction.