Or would the revelation turn his brain, if it did not kill him outright?
She looked at the sunken orbits of his eyes and hectic on his cheek, and shuddered.
Why was this added to the agony she already suffered?
She had been willing to stand between them with her life, her liberty, and even--the hot blood dyed her cheek at the thought--with the added shame of being thought the cast-off mistress of that man's son.

Yet all this she had taken upon herself in expiation of something--she knew not clearly what; no, for nothing--only for HIM.

And yet this very situation offered her that gleam of hope which had thrilled her; a hope so wild in its improbability, so degrading in its possibility, that at first she knew not whether despair was not preferable to its shame.

And yet was it unreasonable?
She was no longer passionate; she would be calm and think it out fairly.
She would go to Low at once.

She would find him somewhere--and even if with that girl, what mattered ?--and she would tell him all.