Without any prudishness, without the slightest atom of self-distrust or fear to meet him, every womanly feeling in her kept her out of his way.

Here was a young man whom she had once ignorantly suffered to make love to her, nay, loved in a foolish, girlish way; a young man whom she now knew--and he must know she knew it--no virtuous girl could or ought to have regarded with a moment's tenderness.

Here was he insulting her by coming to her own house--her husband's house, without the permission of either.
Had he been humble or shamefaced, she might have pitied him, for all pure hearts have such infinite pity for sinners.

She would have wished him repentance, peace, and prosperity, and gone on her way, as he on his, each feeling very kindly to the other, but meeting, and desiring to meet, no more.

Now, when he obtruded himself so unhesitatingly, so unblushingly, on the very scene of his misdoings and disgrace, pity was dried up in her heart, and indignation took its place.
"How dare he ?" she thought, and nothing else but that.