"If I could just see mother or father or anybody from New York! Oh, I know I shall never see New York again, or Broadway or Fifth Avenue or Central Park--I never--never--never shall!" And she would grovel among her pillows, burying her face and half stifling herself lest her sobs should be heard.

Her feeling for her husband had become one of terror and repulsion.

She was almost more afraid of his patronising, affectionate moments than she was of his temper.
His conjugal condescensions made her feel vaguely--without knowing why--as if she were some lower order of little animal.
American women, he said, had no conception of wifely duties and affection.

He had a great deal to say on the subject of wifely duty.
It was part of her duty as a wife to be entirely satisfied with his society, and to be completely happy in the pleasure it afforded her.

It was her wifely duty not to talk about her own family and palpitatingly expect letters by every American mail.