"Are you ill or frightened?
You look like a ghost." She made no reply, and her husband, thinking she had relapsed into one of her little fits of temper, sighed heavily and bade her good night.
Poor, foolish, jealous heart--she never lay down to rest! She had quite resolved she would go and meet the husband who was tired of her and the woman who lured him away.

She would listen to all they had to say, and then confront them.

No thought of the dishonor of such a proceeding struck her.

Poor Dora was not gifted with great refinement of feeling--she looked upon the step she contemplated rather as a triumph over an enemy than a degradation to herself.

She knew the place in the grounds where they should be sure to meet.