Only the intentional coarseness of it was to be endured--if she chose to endure it; for the rest was empty of concrete meaning to her.
Lent was half over before she saw him again.

Neither he nor she had taken any steps to complete the rupture; and at the Mi-careme dance, given by the Siowa Hunt, Quarrier, who was M.F.H., took up the thread of their suspended intercourse as methodically and calmly as though it had never quivered to the breaking point.

He led the cotillon with agreeable precision and impersonal accuracy, favouring her at intervals; and though she wasted no favours on him, she endured his, which was sufficient evidence that matters were still in statu quo.
She returned to town next morning with Grace Ferrall, irritable, sulky, furious with herself at the cowardly relief she felt.

For, spite of her burning anger against Quarrier, the suspense at times had been wearing; and she would not make the first move--had not decided even to accept his move if it came--at least, had not admitted to herself that she would accept it.

It had come and the tension was over, and now, entering Mrs.Ferrall's brougham which met them at Thirty-fourth Street Ferry, she was furious with herself for her unfeigned feeling of relief.
All hot with self-contempt she lay back in the comfortably upholstered corner of the brougham, staring straight before her, sullen red mouth unresponsive to the occasional inconsequent questions of Grace Ferrall.
"After awhile," observed Grace, "people will begin to talk about the discontented beauty of your face." Sylvia's eyebrows bent still farther inward.
"A fretful face, but rather pretty," commented Grace maliciously.
"It won't do, dear.