"The vulgar boor!" she muttered.

Was ever woman so disgraced, and so unjustly? What had the gods
against her, that they had thus abased her? How Washington would
jeer! How her friends would sneer! What hope was there now of her
ever getting a husband? She would be an object of pity and of
scorn. It would take more courage than any of the men of her set
had, to marry a woman rejected by such a creature--and in such
circumstances!

"He has made everybody think I sought him. Now, he'll tell
everybody that he had to break it off--that HE broke it off!"

She ground her teeth; she clenched her hands; she wept and moaned
in the loneliness of her bed. She hated Craig; she hated the whole
world; she loathed herself. And all the time she had to keep up
appearances--for she had not dared tell her grandmother--had to
listen while the old lady discussed the marriage as an event of
the not remote future.

Why had she not told her grandmother? Lack of courage; hope that
something would happen to reveal the truth without her telling.
HOPE that something would happen? No, fear. She did not dare look
at the newspapers. But, whatever her reason, it was not any idea
that possibly the engagement might be resumed. No, not that.
"Horrible as I feel," thought she, "I am better off than in those
weeks when that man was whirling me from one nightmare to another.
The peace of desolation is better than that torture of doubt and
repulsion. Whatever was I thinking of to engage myself to such a
man? to think seriously of passing my life with him? Poor fool