But," she added, in an uneven voice, "I suppose you won't come near me for the world!" "Why not ?" "Because--well, you know." "Yes.

I will--I don't hate you at all." They consequently crept up to one another, and being in the dark, lonely and weary, did what neither had dreamed of doing beforehand, clasped each other closely, Mrs.Charmond's furs consoling Grace's cold face, and each one's body as she breathed alternately heaving against that of her companion.
When a few minutes had been spent thus, Mrs.Charmond said, "I am so wretched!" in a heavy, emotional whisper.
"You are frightened," said Grace, kindly.

"But there is nothing to fear; I know these woods well." "I am not at all frightened at the wood, but I am at other things." Mrs.Charmond embraced Grace more and more tightly, and the younger woman could feel her neighbor's breathings grow deeper and more spasmodic, as though uncontrollable feelings were germinating.
"After I had left you," she went on, "I regretted something I had said.
I have to make a confession--I must make it!" she whispered, brokenly, the instinct to indulge in warmth of sentiment which had led this woman of passions to respond to Fitzpiers in the first place leading her now to find luxurious comfort in opening her heart to his wife.

"I said to you I could give him up without pain or deprivation--that he had only been my pastime.

That was untrue--it was said to deceive you.