And Grandcourt might have pleaded that he was perfectly justified in taking care that his wife should fulfill the obligations she had accepted. Her marriage was a contract where all the ostensible advantages were on her side, and it was only of those advantages that her husband should use his power to hinder her from any injurious self committal or unsuitable behavior. He knew quite well that she had not married him--had not overcome her repugnance to certain facts--out of love to him personally; he had won her by the rank and luxuries he had to give her, and these she had got: he had fulfilled his side of the contract.
And Gwendolen, we know, was thoroughly aware of the situation. She could not excuse herself by saying that there had been a tacit part of the contract on her side--namely, that she meant to rule and have her own way. With all her early indulgence in the disposition to dominate, she was not one of the narrow-brained women who through life regard all their own selfish demands as rights, and every claim upon themselves as an injury. She had a root of conscience in her, and the process of purgatory had begun for her on the green earth: she knew that she had been wrong.
But now enter into the soul of this young creature as she found herself, with the blue Mediterranean dividing her from the world, on the tiny plank-island of a yacht, the domain of the husband to whom she felt that she had sold herself, and had been paid the strict price--nay, paid more than she had dared to ask in the handsome maintenance of her mother:--the husband to whom she had sold her truthfulness and sense of justice, so that he held them throttled into silence, collared and dragged behind him to witness what he would, without remonstrance.

And Grandcourt might have pleaded that he was perfectly justified in taking care that his wife should fulfil her obligations. Her marriage was a contract where all the apparent advantages were on her side, and it was only right for her husband to hinder her from any unsuitable behaviour. He knew quite well that she had not married him out of love; he had won her by the rank and luxuries he had to give her, and these she had got: he had fulfilled his side of the contract.
And Gwendolen, we know, was thoroughly aware of the situation. She could not excuse herself by saying that that she had meant to rule and have her own way. With all her early indulgence, she was not one of those narrow-brained women who regard all their own selfish demands as rights, and every claim upon themselves as an injury. She had a root of conscience in her, and the process of purgatory had begun: she knew that she had been wrong.
But now enter into the soul of this young creature as she found herself, with the blue Mediterranean dividing her from the world, on the tiny plank-island of a yacht, the domain of the husband to whom she had sold herself, and had been paid the strict price: the husband to whom she had sold her truth and justice, so that he held them throttled into silence, collared and dragged behind him, without remonstrance.
