She assented to everything, was ready to do anything Magdalen told her.

She was like one stunned.
She had at last closed with the inevitable.

She had found it too strong for her.
Did Fay realise how frightfully she had complicated her position by her own folly?
She lay back in her corner of the brougham with her eyes shut, pallid, silent.

Magdalen held her hand, and spoke encouragingly from time to time.
You had to be constantly holding Fay's hand, or kissing her, or taking her in your arms if you were to make her feel that you loved her.

The one light austere touch, the long grave look, that between reserved and sympathetic natures goes deeper than any caress, were nothing to Fay.
It was a long drive to Lostford, and to-day it seemed interminable.
The lonely chalk road seemed to stretch forever across the down.