You don't know what a mortification anything of that sort is to a woman. You don't know the sleepless nights we've had in this house, and the almost bitter words that have passed between us since that Fifth of November.
Usually I'll have something snarky to say, but lately I would tell… I would say… I've told you lately that I love you, Antonio, and he would look at me and shrug his shoulders.
The answer was a blank which Rosamond could only fill up with dread, for Will Ladislaw's lacerating words had made every thought of Dorothea a fresh smart to her.