"Is it that you don't like to live on his money, Guthrie?"
"I should NOT like to live on it—decidedly not. But the fact is, I haven't given the money a thought." "Then why—why are you like this?"
"I'll tell you, Francie—I'll tell you plainly. It seems infernally brutal—but I'm sure you know I wouldn't say a thing to hurt you if I could help it."
"Oh, go on!"
There were red roses in her cheeks now, and a sparkle that was not all firelight in her eyes.
"It is this, dear—don't try to take your hands away, I am going to keep them; I must have you listen to me till I've quite done—it is this, Francie: Love, as we very well know—I mean our sort of love—is one thing, and marriage another—"
"WHAT? Oh, is THAT it? Ah, ah! I see now."
"Take your own case," said he, with a relentless air. "Haven't you proved it up to the hilt?"
"Proved what?"
"That marriage is a failure."