"Do you know what I said, Adela, when the news reached me of all you had done, and I thought of the consequences it might involve? I said—and I spoke truly—that I would rather have seen you in your grave."
"Said it to mamma, I suppose?"
"No. I tried to excuse you to her. I said it to your husband."
"Oh—to him," said Adela, assuming an indifference she did not feel.
"And I am not sure but death might have been a happier fate for you than this that you have brought upon yourself—disgrace, the neglect of the world, and a dreary, purposeless life."
It might have been. Adela felt it so to her heart's core. She bit her lips to conceal their trembling.
"All the same, Aunt Margery, he was harsher than he need have been."
"Who was?"
"Mr. Grubb."
"Do you think so, Adela—remembering your long course of scorn and cruelty? My only wonder was that he had not emancipated himself from it long before."