She thanked Him for letting her help.

If He had said that she had not helped, she would have rocked her arms and replied almost hotly: "You know I have." And He did know: He had seen her many times in the grip of inherited passions, and watched her fighting with them and subduing them; He had seen ugly thoughts stealing upon her, as they crawl towards every child of man; ah, He had seen them leap into the heart of the Painted Lady's daughter, as if a nest already made for them must be there, and still she had driven them away.

Grizel had helped.

The tears came more quickly now.
She thanked God that she had never worn the ring.

But why had she never worn it, when she wanted so much to do so, and it was hers?
Why had she watched herself more carefully than ever of late, and forced happiness to her face when it was not in her heart, and denied herself, at fierce moments, the luxuries of grief and despair, and even of rebellion?
For she had carried about with her the capacity to rebel, but she had hidden it, and the reason was that she thought God was testing her.