A woman, in an atmosphere of red-hot enthusiasm, witnesses the apotheosis of Physical Strength.

Is it reasonable--is it just--to expect her to ask herself, in cold blood, What (morally and intellectually) is all this worth ?--and that, when the man who is the object of the apotheosis, notices her, is presented to her, finds her to his taste, and singles her out from the rest?
No.

While humanity is humanity, the woman is not utterly without excuse.
Has she escaped, without suffering for it?
Look at her as she stands there, tortured by the knowledge of her own secret--the hideous secret which she is hiding from the innocent girl, whom she loves with a sister's love.

Look at her, bowed down under a humiliation which is unutterable in words.

She has seen him below the surface--now, when it is too late.