I do feel better about it now, Anne, and shall be able to sleep in peace." So they said good night, and separated--comforted.
But the object of their solicitude did not attempt to get into her bed when she had dismissed her maid.

She sat down in one of the big gilt William-and-Mary armchairs, and clasped her hands tightly, and tried to think.
Things were coming to a crisis with her.

Destiny had given her another cross to bear, for suddenly this evening, as the Duke spoke of his wife, she had become conscious of the truth about herself: she was in love with her husband.

And she herself had made it impossible that he could ever come back to her.

For, indeed, the tables were turned, with one of those ironical twists of Fate.
And she questioned herself--Why did she love him?
She had reproached him on her wedding night, when he had told her he loved her, because in her ignorance she felt then it could only be a question of sense.