"When they're not satisfied with a day and want to make it forever. The mere thought of forever wearies me. I feel like killing a man when he so much as hints at it."
"You haven't killed your husband," he reminded her.
"Ah, but how I have been tempted!" she laughed. "Some day I may."
"I know something of what a beast Darling is," he ventured. "I've heard it at the club. They say—"
"Don't!" she begged. "I won't listen. It may all be true, but I'd rather not hear it. I'm sorry for him. I'd only kill him to put him out of his misery—to put us both out of our misery."
"Of course you don't mean that. You shouldn't say it."
She didn't contradict him, and for a little there was silence between them. His thoughts reverted to the man who was her match—and more.
"And the other man?" he queried. "You said he was something else. What else?"
"My mate," she said simply. And again the silence fell.
Presently her laugh rang out, clear and bell-like, startling her companion from gloomy reverie. It jarred awfully. It was like dance music at a funeral.