But a young woman of twenty-three, who has made a mistake in her
marriage, and has only herself to blame, looks forward to no end, unless
she be the new woman, which Gyp was not. Having settled that she would
not admit failure, and clenched her teeth on the knowledge that she was
going to have a child, she went on keeping things sealed up even from
Winton. To Fiorsen, she managed to behave as usual, making material life
easy and pleasant for him--playing for him, feeding him well, indulging
his amorousness. It did not matter; she loved no one else. To count
herself a martyr would be silly! Her malaise, successfully concealed,
was deeper--of the spirit; the subtle utter discouragement of one who
has done for herself, clipped her own wings.
As for Rosek, she treated him as if that little scene had never taken
place. The idea of appealing to her husband in a difficulty was gone for
ever since the night he came home drunk. And she did not dare to tell
her father. He would--what would he not do? But she was always on
her guard, knowing that Rosek would not forgive her for that dart of
ridicule. His insinuations about Daphne Wing she put out of mind, as she
never could have if she had loved Fiorsen. She set up for herself the
idol of pride, and became its faithful worshipper. Only Winton, and
perhaps Betty, could tell she was not happy. Fiorsen's debts and
irresponsibility about money did not worry her much, for she paid
everything in the house--rent, wages, food, and her own dress--and had
so far made ends meet; and what he did outside the house she could not
help.
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