The position should have been untenable, but it was not. As yet no
remorse had come to Brigit regarding Felicite, although she frequently
experienced a pang of self-loathing on meeting Theo's honest and
trusting eyes. Her upbringing had been such that she really believed
herself to be as yet quite guiltless of anything more than an almost
inevitable deceit, and even when she did regret the deceit, the thought
that she was going to marry Theo gave her instant comfort, as though she
were contemplating some noble act of atonement.
"Victor is very good now," she thought, turning her flat, hard pillow,
"and I am much less nervous and irritable. Things always do straighten
themselves out, I suppose--for those who know how to wait. Mere waiting
does no good, it's the knowing how that counts. And I think we are
learning now. If only Theo would fall in love with someone else. The
minute he becomes unhappy or even impatient Victor will grow paternal,
and that is horrible. Theo seems happy enough now----"
Her room was small and high, with orange-coloured stencillings on a grey
ground, and thin, dangerously movable strips of carpet on the slippery
floor. The curtains were of blue flannel and thoroughly unbeautiful.
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