"How hateful it is! To think that our civilisation should allow women to be cast to the dogs! Understand, Margery, I'm thinking of her.

In this matter I'm not capable of considering anything else." Mrs.Pendyce murmured: "Of course, dear Grig, I quite understand." "Her position is odious; a woman should not have to live like that, exposed to everyone's foul gossip." "But, dear Grig, I don't think she minds; she seemed to me in such excellent spirits." Gregory ran his fingers through his hair.
"Nobody understands her," he said; "she's so plucky!" Mrs.Pendyce stole a glance at him, and a little ironical smile flickered over her face.
"No one can look at her without seeing her spirit.

But, Grig, perhaps you don't quite understand her either!" Gregory Vigil put his hand to his head.
"I must open the window a moment," he said.
Again Mrs.Pendyce's fingers began twisting, again she stilled them.
"We were quite a large party last week, and now there's only Charles.
Even George has gone back; he'll be so sorry to have missed you!" Gregory neither turned nor answered, and a wistful look came into Mrs.
Pendyce's face.
"It was so nice for the dear boy to win that race! I'm afraid he bets rather! It's such a comfort Horace doesn't know." Still Gregory did not speak.
Mrs.Pendyce's face lost its anxious look, and gained a sort of gentle admiration.
"Dear Grig," she said, "where do you go about your hair?
It is so nice and long and wavy!" Gregory turned with a blush.
"I've been wanting to get it cut for ages.

Do you really mean, Margery, that your husband can't realise the position she's placed in ?" Mrs.Pendyce fixed her eyes on her lap.
"You see, Grig," she began, "she was here a good deal before she left the Firs, and, of course, she's related to me--though it's very distant.
With those horrid cases, you never know what will happen.

Horace is certain to say that she ought to go back to her husband; or, if that's impossible, he'll say she ought to think of Society.