This last made her very fierce. She was still fiercely jealous of his body. In passionate anger she upbraided him because, not being man enough to satisfy one woman, he hung round others.

[“Don't I satisfy you?” he asked of her, again going white to the throat.

“No,” she said. “You've never satisfied me since the first week in London. You never satisfy me now. What does it mean to me, your having me — ”] She lifted her shoulders and turned aside her face in a motion of cold, indifferent worthlessness.

He felt he would kill her.

When she had roused him to a pitch of madness, when she saw his eyes all dark and mad with suffering, then a great suffering overcame her soul, a