yes.

Rodman looked at her for an instant, then seemed to master his fury and
laughed.

'That doesn't improve your beauty. Now, no crying out before you're
hurt. There's no harm done. Only you've to learn that I mean what I say,
that's all. Now I haven't hurt you, so don't pretend.'

'Oh, you _have_ hurt me!' she sobbed wretchedly, with her fingers round
her injured wrist. 'I never thought you could be so cruel. Oh, my hand!
What harm have I done? And you used to say you'd never be unkind to me,
never! Oh, how miserable I am! Is this how you're going to treat me? As
if I could help it! Willis, you won't begin to be cruel? Oh, my hand!'

'Let me look at it. Pooh, what's amiss?' He spoke all at once in his
usual good-natured voice. 'Now go and find Adela, whilst I wait here.'

'You're going to force me to do that?'

'You're going to do it. Now don't make me angry again.'

She rose, frightened again by his look. She took a step or two, then
turned back to him.

'If I do this, will you be kind to me, the same as before?'

'Of course I will. You don't take me for a brute?'

She held her bruised wrist to him.

'Will you--will you kiss it well again?'

The way in which she said it was as nearly pathetic as anything from
poor Alice could be. Her misery was so profound, and this childish
forgiveness of an outrage was so true a demonstration of womanly
tenderness which her character would not allow to be noble. Her husband
laughed rather uneasily, and did her bidding with an ill grace. But yet
she could not go.

'You'll promise never to speak--'

'Yes, yes, of course I promise. Come back to me. Mind, shall know how
you did it.'

'But why? What is she to us?'

'I'll tell you afterwards.'

There was a dawning of jealousy in her eyes.

'I don't think you ought to make your wife lower herself--'

His brow darkened.

'Will you do as I tell you?'

She moved towards the door, stopped to dry her wet cheeks, half looked
round. What she saw sped her on her way.

Adela was just descending the stairs, dressed to go out. Alice let her
go past without speaking, but followed her through the hall and into the
garden. Adela turned, saying gently--

'Do you wish to speak to me?'

'I'm sorry I said those things. I didn't mean it. I don't think it was
your fault.'

The other smiled; then in that voice which Stella had spoken of as full
of forgiveness--

'No, it is not my fault, Alice. It couldn't be otherwise.'