What had come over her?
If anybody had told her beforehand that she could ever let slip her power over her own will like this, ever become possessed with this silent, obstinate demon of wounded love and pride, never would she have believed them! She moved under its grip like an automaton.

She would not quarrel with Arthur.

But as no soft confession was possible, and no mending or undoing of what had happened, to laugh her way through the difficult hours was all that remained.

So that whenever Meadows renewed the attempt to "have it out," he was met by renewed evasion and "chaff" on Doris's side, till he could only retreat with as much offended dignity as she allowed him.
It was after midnight before she had finished his packing.

Then, bidding him a smiling good night, she fell asleep--apparently--as soon as her head touched the pillow.
The next morning, early, she stood on the steps waving farewell to Arthur, without a trace of ill-humour.