They told me that he was suffering keenly in secret.
The extraordinary scene that had just passed, far from depriving me of the last remains of my courage, had strung up my nerves and restored my self-possession.

I must have been more or less than woman if my self-respect had not been wounded, if my curiosity had not been wrought to the highest pitch, by the extraordinary conduct of my husband's mother when Eustace presented me to her.

What was the secret of her despising him, and pitying me?
Where was the explanation of her incomprehensible apathy when my name was twice pronounced in her hearing?
Why had she left us, as if the bare idea of remaining in our company was abhorrent to her?
The foremost interest of my life was now the interest of penetrating these mysteries.

Walk?
I was in such a fever of expectation that I felt as if I could have walked to the world's end, if I could only keep my husband by my side, and question him on the way.
"I am quite recovered," I said.

"Let us go back, as we came, on foot." Eustace glanced at the landlady.