She sank into a profound reverie. Her brain was clear, logical and evenly balanced, and she had none of the flighty, fantastical, hysterical notions common to many of her sex. She had been trained, or rather, she had trained herself, in the splendid school of classic philosophy; and in addition to this, she was a devout Christian, one of the old-world type, who would have willingly endured martyrdom for the faith had it been necessary. She was not a church-goer, and she belonged to no special ‘sect;’ she had no vulgar vices to hide by an ostentatious display of public charities, but she had the most absolute and passionate belief in, and love for Christ, as the one Divine Messenger from God to man; and now she was bringing both her faith and her philosophic theories to bear on the present unexpected crisis in her life. ‘If I were a low woman, a vulgar woman, a virago in domestic life, or what the French call _une femme impossible_, I could understand his seeking a change from my detestable company anywhere and everywhere,’ she mentally argued; ‘but as things are, what have I done that he should descend from me to La Marina? Men will amuse themselves—I know that well enough—but need the amusement be obtained on such a low grade! And is it fair that my earnings should keep La Marina in jewels?’ At this latter thought she started up and began to pace the room restlessly. In so doing she came face to face with the marble bust of ‘Antinous,’ and she stopped abruptly, looking full at it.