to
unimaginable obscurities. He pictured her as sunk, in Continental
abysses, beyond all possibility of resurgence. And she had emerged (from
abominations) smiling that indestructible smile. The incident had been
unpleasant, so unpleasant that he didn't want to talk about it. All the
same, he would have done violence to his feelings and apologised for it
then and there, but that he really judged it better to let well alone. It
was well, he thought, that Anne was so silent. She might have had a great
deal to say, and it was kind of her not to say it, to let him off so
easily.

Anne's interpretation of Majendie's silence was not so favourable. After
being exposed to the pain and insult of Lady Cayley's presence she had
expected an immediate apology, and she inferred from its omission an
unpardonable complicity. Any compliance with the public toleration of
that person would have been inexcusable, and he had been more than
compliant, more than tolerant; he had been solicitous, attentive,
deferent. And deference to such a woman was insolence to his wife. Anne
was struck dumb by the shameless levity of the proceedings. The two had
behaved as if nothing had happened, or rather (she bitterly corrected
herself) as if everything had happened, and might happen any day again
(she inferred as much from his silence). It would--it would happen. _Her_
intentions were, to Anne's mind, unmistakable; that was plainly what she
had come back for. As to his intentions, Anne was not yet clear. She had
not made up her mind that they were bad; but she shuddered as she said to
herself that he was "weak." He had come at that woman's call; he had hung
round her; he had waited on her at her bidding; at her bidding he had sat
down beside her; he had listened to her, attracted, charmed, delighted;
he had talked to her in the low voice Anne knew. How could she tell what
had or had not passed between them there, what intimacies, what
recognitions, what resurrections of the corrupt, ill-buried past? He had
been "weak--weak--weak." Henceforth she must reckon with his weakness,
and reckoning with it, she must keep him from that woman by any method,
and at any cost! It was something that he had the grace to be ashamed of
himself (another inference from his silence). No wonder, after that
communion, if he was ashamed to look at his wife or speak to her.

He went straight to Edith when they reached home, and Anne went upstairs
to her bedroom.

She had a g