That would be her other chance.

And should Roger--as well he might--refuse to take second best, then willy-nilly she would be once more thrust forth into the troublous sea of longing and desire.
But if he still wanted her--why, then she would have been quite honest with him and it would seem to be her destiny to be his wife.

She would leave it at that--leave it for chance, or fate, or whatever it is that shapes our ends, to settle a matter that, swayed as she was by opposing forces, she was unable to decide for herself.
She heaved a sigh of relief.

After those wretched, interminable hours of irresolution, when love, and fear of that same love, had tortured her almost beyond bearing, it was an odd kind of comfort to feel that she had given herself two chances, and, if both failed, to know that she must abide by the result.
The turmoil of her mind drove her at last almost insensibly towards the low, wide wall facing the unquiet sea.

Here she sat down, still absorbed in her thoughts, her gaze resting absently on the incoming tide below.