Though she knew that she was to blame, she was furious, not with herself, but with O'Hara.

He had insulted her, and she resolved bitterly that she would never forgive him.

Even now, whenever she was silent, she could still feel his kiss on her mouth, and the vividness of the sensation stung her into passionate anger.

She was no longer the reasonable and competent Gabriella, who had so successfully "managed her life"; she was primitive woman in the grip of primitive anger; and balance, moderation, restraint, had flown from her soul.

The very mystery of her feeling, its complexity, its suddenness, its remorselessness--these emotions worked together to deepen the sense of insult, of injury, with which she burned.
"It is true, and you have no right to doubt it.