That, Nina told her, was her danger. Nina happened to be with her on the day when another family committee met and sat upon her case. They were sitting on it now, up-stairs with Brodrick in his study. She knew infallibly what their judgment would be. Just as she had seemed to them so long a creature of uncertain health, she must seem now inconstant, insincere, the incarnation of heartlessness, egotism and caprice. She said to herself that it was all very well for Nina to talk. This insight was a curse. It was terrible to know what people were thinking, to feel what they were feeling. And they were seven to one, so that when she gave them pain she had to feel seven times the pain she gave.
But after all they, her judges, could take care of themselves. This family, that was one consolidated affection, was like a wall, it would shelter and protect her so long as she was content to be sheltered and protected; if she dashed herself against it it would break her in pieces.
And Nina was saying, "Can't you take it into your own hands? Why should you let these people decide your fate for you?"
"Hugh will decide it," she said. "He's with them up-stairs now."
"Is he asking their advice?"
"No, they're giving it him. That's my chance, Nina."
"Your chance?"
"My one chance. They'll put his back up and, if it's only to show them, he'll let me go."
"Do you mean to say, Jinny, that if he didn't you wouldn't go?"
"I don't even know that I'd go if he minded very much."