He was jealous of Vronsky, as he had been a year ago, as though the evening he had seen her with Vronsky had been yesterday.

He suspected she had not told him everything.

He jumped up quickly.

" No, this can't go on!" he said to himself in despair.

" I'll go to her; I'll ask her; I'll say for the last time: we are free, and hadn't we better stay so? Anything's better than endless misery, disgrace, unfaithfulness!" With despair in his heart and bitter anger against all men, against himself, against her, he went out of the hotel and drove to her house.