"To begin to see him all over again."
"Do you think that after last night you can begin to see him in the same old way?"
"I must see him in some way."
"But isn't the way what you've still to discover?" I resolved on a bold stroke. "Wouldn't part of your object in going away for a time be to think out some method of reconciling your feeling for Mr. Grainger with—with your self-respect?"
"My self-respect?" She looked as if she had never heard of such a thing. "What's that got to do with it?"
"Hasn't it got everything to do with it? You can't live without it forever."
"Do you mean that I've been living without it as it is?"
"Isn't that for you to say rather than for me?"
She was silent for a minute, after which she said, fretfully:
"I don't think it's very nice of you to talk to me like that. You've got me here at your mercy, when I might have been—" A long, bubbling sigh, like the aftermath of tears, laid stress on the joys she had foregone. "He'll never forgive me now—never."