His vanity would be wounded, since he had owned to being a dog in the manger.

That would be her only revenge--and what a paltry one! She felt that--and was ashamed of herself; but all human beings are paltry when their self-love is wounded and the passion of jealousy has them in its thrall, and Sabine was no better nor worse than any other woman probably.

Once more she made resolutions, firm resolutions to think no more of Michael either good or bad.

It was perfectly sickening--the humiliation and degradation of his so frequently coming into her mind.

She pulled the despatch-box nearer to her again, and in anger and contempt took from an envelope a brown and withered spray of flowers, which had once been stephanotis, and with forceful rage flung them into the fire.
"There! that is done with--ridiculous, hateful sentiment, go!" And when she had shut the lid down with a snap, she rang for Simone and began to dress for dinner, an extra flush burning in her cheeks.
They crossed to England a week or so later, Lord Fordyce meeting them at Charing Cross, and going with them to the Hotel.
How dear he seemed, and how distinguished he looked! He was as ever a soothing and uplifting influence, and before the evening was over, Sabine felt calmed and happy, and sure she had done the right thing in deciding to link her life with his.
But it was not so with Moravia.