"Are you sure of that?" he asked quietly. "It's a pretty big claim to make for oneself, either for good or for evil."
"It's only his friends, after all. Because I've got none. Well, I've got you." She came and stood by him. "You're against me, though, aren't you?"
"I admit I think a wife—or a husband—ought to stand a lot."
"It's not as if my baby had lived. I might have gone on trying then. It wouldn't have been just undiluted Cyril."
"That makes some difference, I agree. Still, in the general interest of things——"
"I must be tortured all my life?" Her challenge of the obligation rang out sharply.
With a restless toss of his head, he sat down at his table again. She stood where she was, staring at the dingy ornament in the grate.
"Life the other way mayn't turn out particularly easy. You'll have troubles, annoyances—temptations, perhaps."
"I can face those. I can trust myself, Hobart. Can he prevent my going if I want to?"
"No."