"You think, then," he asked, "that she meant none of her violent protestations of last night?"
"I am sure that she meant them while she uttered them—not a minute afterward. She can't help being dramatic any more than she can help being beautiful."
"Are you positive that you said nothing to bring about her decision? Did you influence her in any way?"
"I did nothing more than tell her that she must make her choice once for all—that she must either go back to Geoffrey Heath and keep up some kind of appearances, or publicly separate herself from him. I let her see quite plainly that a state of continual quarrels was impossible and indecent."
Her point of view was so entirely sensible that he found himself hopelessly overpowered by its unassailable logic.
"So she has decided to stick to him for better or for worse, then?"
"For the present at all events. She realised fully, I think, how much she would be obliged to sacrifice by returning home?"
"Sacrifice? Good God, what?" he demanded.
"Oh, well, you see, Geoffrey lives in a fashion that is rather grand for Botetourt. He travels a great deal, and he makes her gorgeous presents when he is in a good humour. She seemed to feel that if we could only settle these bills for her, she would be able to bring about a satisfactory adjustment. I was surprised to find how quietly she took it all this morning. She had forgotten entirely, I believe, the scene she made downstairs last night."
This was his old Alice, he reflected in baffled silence, and apparently he would never attain to the critical judgment of her. Well, in any case, he was able to do justice to Lydia's admirable detachment.