She had remembered his voice and his look when he said something about honor and dishonor, and about working for her till he dropped.  Noble and splendid love had spoken in that—­such love as few women are lucky enough to get.  Oh, surely if he loved her like that, he could not leave off loving her altogether, and never, never, want his Mav again.

Sadness and desolation overcame her.  She was alone in their dear, dear home, disgraced, abandoned, heart-broken; and her thoughts for a little while were all prayers.  With each one of them she prayed her husband to go on loving her; to come back and bruise her limbs, to punish her with fierce glances and cutting words, to subject her to systematic penitential discipline, if only at the end of it all she might have his love again.

She sat crying most bitterly; and then, when at last she dried her eyes, and went down-stairs to gratify Mary by pretending to eat some breakfast, a supremely commonplace and yet poignantly sad reflection brought another flood of tears.  What wretched little chances can produce the most tragically terrific upheavals!  Had she not bought a return railway ticket, the whole disaster might have been averted.  But for that horrible square inch of pink cardboard, all would have been well, her ordeal would not have been suffered in vain.  The wickedly strong intoxicant had of course begun the mischief by making her blurt out those imbecile words that first set Will on the rampage; but it was the knowledge of the telltale ticket, close at hand, unguarded, certain to be found if looked for, that had unnerved her so completely.  Otherwise, as she now believed, she could have held her own under his rapid fire of questions.  She could have laughed off his accusations as absurd—­or, at the worst, she could have gained time to think of plausible explanations.  But the ticket simply paralyzed her.

And she had known that she was running a risk when she made up her mind to keep it.  She bought it without any thought at all—­a stupid thing to do, considering that the cost was the same as two single fares.  Not so stupid, however, as the thrifty idea that if she and Will traveled home in different trains, she might after all use her return half.  Oh, fatal economy!  In scheming to avoid the loss of five shillings she had wrecked all her peace and comfort.

On this Sunday she would have liked to go to church, but a dread of loquacious and inquisitive neighbors kept her a prisoner in the house.

On Monday morning she almost determined to go out for a walk but her courage again failed her.  Until noon the village street was dull and lifeless, with only one or two people visible at a time, and yet she dared not go down and walk through it.  Were she to show herself, all the idle shopkeepers would issue from their shops, to congratulate her on the postmaster’s victory, to inquire where he was spending his holiday and why she hadn’t gone for the holiday with him.