She could bear the idea of walking forth, as she had said, penniless into the street, without a crust; but she could not bear the idea of being laughed at when she got there.
To her, in her position, her only escape was by marriage.

It was the solitude of her position which maddened her: its solitude, or the necessity of breaking that solitude by the presence of those who were odious to her.

Whether it were better to be alone, feeding on the bitterness of her own thoughts, or to be comforted by the fulsome flatteries and odious falsenesses of Sophie Gordeloup, she could not tell.

She hated herself for her loneliness, but she hated herself almost worse for submitting herself to the society of Sophie Gordeloup.

Why not give all that she possessed to Harry Clavering--herself, her income, her rich pastures and horses and oxen, and try whether the world would not be better to her when she had done so.
She had learned to laugh at romance, but still she believed in love.
While that bargain was going on as to her settlement, she had laughed at romance, and had told herself that in this world worldly prosperity was everything.