She found lame excuses for postponing appointments; at last she confessed that she was afraid.

He despised her for displaying so little common sense and courage.

He no longer felt that she loved him, and he spoke harshly to her, but he pursued her incessantly with his desire.
Bitter days and barren hours followed.

As she no longer dared to seek the shelter of a roof in his company, they used to take a cab, and after driving for hours about the outskirts of the city they would alight in some gloomy avenue, wandering far down it under the bitter east wind, walking swiftly, as though chastised by the breath of an unseen wrath.
Once, however, the weather was so mild that it filled them with its soft languor.

Side by side they trod the deserted paths of the Bois de Boulogne.