"Hobart, you know that's not my way! I haven't a man-friend, except you, and my cousin, Stephen Aikenhead—and I very seldom see either of you. And Stephen's married, and you're engaged. That's a ridiculous idea, Hobart."
She was evidently indignant, but Gaynor was not disturbed.
"We lawyers have to suspect everybody," he reminded her with a smile, "and to expect anything, however improbable. So I'll ask now if your husband has any great woman-friend."
"That's just as ridiculous. I could be wicked enough to wish he had. Let somebody else have a try at it!"
"Can't you—somehow—get back to what made you like him at first? Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yes, I do—and I've tried." Her eyes looked bewildered, even frightened. "But, Hobart, I can't realize what it was. Unless it was just his looks—he is very handsome, you know."
"He stands well at the Bar. He's getting on fast, he's very straight, and I don't think he's unpopular, from what I hear."
She caught his hint quickly. "A lot of people will say it's my fault? That I'm unreasonable, and all in the wrong?"
"You'd have to reckon with a good deal of that."
"I don't care what people say."