g.

When she was alone, however, she went over the whole matter
thoughtfully, and she made up her mind that she had been hasty. For she
was naturally just. She said to herself that she had no claim to the
man's secrets, which she had learned in a way of which she was not at
all proud; and that if he could keep his own counsel, he, on his side,
had a right to do so. The fact that she knew him to be heartless and
faithless by no means implied that he was also indiscreet, though when
an individual has done anything which we think bad we easily suppose
that he may do every other bad thing imaginable. Johnstone's discretion,
at least, was admirable, now that she thought of it. His bright eyes and
frank look would have disarmed any suspicion short of the certainty she
possessed. There had not been the least contraction of the lids, the
smallest change in the expression of his mouth, not the faintest
increase of colour in his young face.

So much the worse, thought the young girl suddenly. He was not only bad.
He was also an accomplished actor. No doubt his eyes had been as steady
and bright and his whole face as truthful when he had made love to Lady
Fan at sunset on the Acropolis. Somehow, the allusion to that scene had
produced a vivid impression on Clare's mind, and she often found herself
wondering what he had said, and how he had looked just then.

Her resentment against him increased as she thought it all over, and
again she felt a longing to be cruel to him, and to make him suffer just
what he had made Lady Fan endure.

Then she was suddenly and unexpectedly overcome by a shamed sense of her
inability to accomplish any such act of justice. It was as though she
had already tried, and had failed, and he had laughed in her face and
turned away. It seemed to her that there could be nothing in her which
could appeal to such a man. There was Lady Fan, much older, with plenty
of experience, doubtless; and she had been deceived, and betrayed, and
abandoned, before the young girl's very eyes. What chance could such a
mere girl possibly have? It was folly, and moreover it was wicked of her
to think of such things. She would be willingly lowering herself to his
level, trying to do the very thing which she despised and hated in him,
trying to outwit him, to out-deceive him, to out-betray him. One side
of her nature, at least, revolted against any such scheme. Besides, she
could never do it.

She was not a great beauty; she wa