Marie returned to her chair and again seated herself. She also had thought much of her own position since her return from Liverpool. Why had Sir Felix not been there? Why had he not come since her return, and, at any rate, endeavoured to see her? Why had he made no attempt to write to her? Had it been her part to do so, she would have found a hundred ways of getting at him. She absolutely had walked inside the garden of the square on Sunday morning, and had contrived to leave a gate open on each side. But he had made no sign. Her father had told her that he had not gone to Liverpool--and had assured her that he had never intended to go. Melmotte had been very savage with her about the money, and had loudly accused Sir Felix of stealing it. The repayment he never mentioned,--a piece of honesty, indeed, which had showed no virtue on the part of Sir Felix. But even if he had spent the money, why was he not man enough to come and say so? Marie could have forgiven that fault,--could have forgiven even the gambling and the drunkenness which had caused the failure of the enterprise on his side, if he had had the courage to come and confess to her. What she could not forgive was continued indifference,--or the cowardice which forbade him to show himself. She had more than once almost doubted his love, though as a lover he had been better than Nidderdale. But now, as far as she could see, he was ready to consent that the thing should be considered as over between them. No doubt she could write to him. She had more than once almost determined to do so. But then she had reflected that if he really loved her he would come to her. She was quite ready to run away with a lover, if her lover loved her; but she would not fling herself at a man's head. Therefore she had done nothing,--beyond leaving the garden gates open on the Sunday morning.

Marie returned to her chair. She also had thought much of her own position since her return from Liverpool. Why had Sir Felix not been there? Why had he not tried to see her since her return? Why had he made no attempt to write to her? She had waited in the square, and left the gates open, but he had not come. Her father had told her that he had not gone to Liverpool - that he had never intended to go. Melmotte had been very savage about the money. But even if Felix had spent the money, why was he not man enough to come and say so? Marie could have forgiven that fault - could have forgiven even the gambling and drunkenness which had caused the failure, if he had had the courage to come and confess to her. What she could not forgive was indifference - or cowardice.
She had more than once almost doubted his love. Now, as far as she could see, he was ready to consent that the thing was over between them. No doubt she could write to him; but if he really loved her he would come to her. She would not fling herself at a man's head. Therefore she had done nothing, beyond leaving the garden gates open on the Sunday morning.
