also bad a right to hers. She had not deliberately resolved to practise any deception upon him; she had not deliberately engaged in a relation which she knew he would resent. She had been led into it instinctively by her feeling of partial estrangement from him, and for this he was responsible. He had made her feel that, after all, she was separate from him; he was one person and she was another. They loved one another, but each, after all, had a life outside that love. Basil had not sacrificed to her his caprice for Mrs. Perry, nor his loyalty to the consequences of that caprice. He had no right then to demand an account from her. He had taken the wrong tone. He had gone off in a rage. No doubt he could not help that he had been taken by surprise and deeply disturbed. He would come back, perhaps, more reasonable—and then she might, or might not, explain. Meantime, she was not sorry that he was disturbed. It would not hurt Basil to suffer a little. He had made her suffer. And with her return she had forgiven him, she had given herself to him again completely, without the shadow of a reproach; less joyously than before, but more seriously, more passionately. She had loved him more because she had—from his point of view—offended against him, and because the account was balanced. She did not feel in the least sinful because of this, but she knew that he would think her so. This consciousness gave her
