y is, it's most confoundedly unpleasant. What the devil women can
see in this kind of thing, I don't know. _You_ see something to be got
by it, of course. All I can see is, that we shall be shut up here when
we might have been having a pleasant sail."

"Let us go, then," said Gwendolen, impetuously. "Perhaps we shall be
drowned." She began to sob again.

This extraordinary behavior, which had evidently some relation to
Deronda, gave more definiteness to Grandcourt's conclusions. He drew
his chair quite close in front of her, and said, in a low tone, "Just
be quiet and listen, will you?"

There seemed to be a magical effect in this close vicinity. Gwendolen
shrank and ceased to sob. She kept her eyelids down and clasped her
hands tightly.

"Let us understand each other," said Grandcourt, in the same tone. "I
know very well what this nonsense means. But if you suppose I am going
to let you make a fool of me, just dismiss that notion from your mind.
What are you looking forward to, if you can't behave properly as my
wife? There is disgrace for you, if you like to have it, but I don't
know anything else; and as to Deronda, it's quite clear that he hangs
back from you."

"It's all false!" said Gwendolen, bitterly. "You don't in the least
imagine what is in my mind. I have seen enough of the disgrace that
comes in that way. And you had better leave me at liberty to speak with
any one I like. It will be better for you."

"You will allow me to judge of that," said Grandcourt, rising and
moving to a little distance toward the window, but standing there
playing with his whiskers as if he were awaiting something.

Gwendolen's words had so clear and tremendous a meaning for herself
that she thought they must have expressed it to Grandcourt, and had no
sooner uttered them than she dreaded their effect. But his soul was
garrisoned against presentiments and fears: he had the courage and
confidence that belong to domination, and he was at that moment feeling
perfectly satisfied that he held his wife with bit and bridle. By the
time they had been married a year she would cease to be restive. He
continued standing with his air of indifference, till she felt her
habitual stifling consciousness of having an immovable obstruction in
her life, like the nightmare of beholding a single form that serves to
arrest all passage though the wide country lies open.

"What decision have you come to?" he said, presently looking at her.
"What