She looked up at him as though for a moment she had thought that there might be something else,--that there might be some other token of true forgiveness, and then she withdrew her hand.

'I had better go now,' she said.

'Good-night; George.' 'Good-night, Marie.' And then she was gone.
As soon as he was alone he sat himself down on the bedside, and began to think of it.

Everything was changed to him since he had called her into the room, determining that he would crush her with his thunderbolt.

Let things go as they may with a man in an affair of love, let him be as far as possible from the attainment of his wishes, there will always be consolation to him if he knows that he is loved.