"It's what you're saying, isn't it?"
"We must look at it as men and women of the world."
"I look at it as a wife and a mother. Do you mean to say it was my fault in the beginning?"
John was losing patience; he saw that some plain speaking would be necessary, but his want of patience made it hard for him to do the plain speaking wisely.
"Well, yes, I do," he said. "In the beginning, you know. Tom's a good-natured fellow, and he was very fond of you. But you—well, you didn't make his home pleasant to him; and if a man's home isn't pleasant, you know what's likely to happen."
"And you're the friend I meant to send for!"
"I am your friend—that's why I venture to speak to you freely. There's no hope unless you both realise where you've been wrong. Tom acknowledges his fault and is ready to change his ways. But you must acknowledge yours and change too."
"What is my fault?"
John took a turn up and down the room.
"I must let her have it," he decided, as he came back to the hearthrug.