Perhaps the mother already was there; but no, she had gone East.
Nevertheless, Mrs.Tretherick, in her then state of mind, preferred to dwell upon the fact that she might be there.

She was dimly conscious, also, of a certain satisfaction in exaggerating her feelings.

Surely no woman had ever been so shamefully abused.

In fancy, she sketched a picture of herself sitting alone and deserted, at sunset, among the fallen columns of a ruined temple, in a melancholy yet graceful attitude, while her husband drove rapidly away in a luxurious coach-and-four, with a red-haired woman at his side.

Sitting upon the trunk she had just packed, she partly composed a lugubrious poem describing her sufferings as, wandering alone and poorly clad, she came upon her husband and "another" flaunting in silks and diamonds.