It struck him from time to time that she had no clear notion of the nature of the wrongs she forgave, just as by some miracle her mind had dwelt apart from everything that was base in her own marriage.

Her ideas of evil were vague and bodiless.

She may have conceived Nevill to have been the victim of some malign intellectual influence, the thrall, perhaps, of some Miss Batchelor _sans merci_.

There may have been mysteries, gulfs before which she shuddered, dim regions which she could only just divine.

He did not know that with women like his wife there is all infinity between what they realize and what they fear.