She would rather that her worldly wisdom in leaving it had been proved by subsequent events than disproved, as now, by news which raised such a golden possibility before her ignorant eyes, that her heart was rent with pangs of envy and covetousness, while her pride warred at the very thought of stooping to take back what she had cast away, and all the disclosure that must ensue.

Above all, she counted it ill tidings that Bates was reported to be in the place.

She was as angry with him now as on the day she had left him--more angry--for now he could vaunt new prosperity as an additional reason why she had been wrong to go.

Why had he come here to disturb and interrupt?
What did the story about Father Cameron matter to him?
She felt like a hunted stag at bay; she only desired strength and opportunity to trample the hunter.
Partly because she felt more able to deal with others than with the dull angry misery of her own heart, partly because she was a creature of custom, disliking to turn from what she had set out to do, she found herself, after about an hour of solitude, rearranging her street toilet to walk to Mrs.Rexford's house.
When she had made her way down to the lower flat of the hotel she found Harkness had spoken the truth in saying he intended to go, for he was gone.

The men in the cool shaded bar-room were talking about it.