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Jeremy had also reviewed the recent affray. He had decided that he had been clumsy, quick to anger and blunt. But he was perfectly certain, first, that his contention had been sound, and, secondly, that his withdrawal was wholly justified. Moreover, cost what it might, if ever again Eve laid such a whip across his shoulders, he would have to go. Had he been less punctilious, had he ever given his wife the slightest cause, it would have been different. As it was, to condone such usage would be fatal. Her respect for him, his respect for himself, would rapidly bleed to death, and Happiness would shrivel like a fallen leaf. There would, in fact, be nothing at all to stay for—unless one cared for Love with his tongue in his cheek....

That she had drawn such a whip had opened Broke’s eyes. He had been hurt—naturally; but he was far more concerned. Ten months ago ... Jeremy blamed himself very much indeed. He was, of course, most deeply in love with his wife....

And she with him.

When he came in that evening she flung her arms round his neck and burst into tears.