“That’s a lie,” said Jim, sharply.
“Yes, so I told her,” Mrs. Darling replied. “I know you. You’re perfectly mad, but I always felt you were very decent to Dolly, considering what a little fraud she is.”
“Anyhow, I don’t mind her saying I ill-treated her,” he added, “if that’s any use for the purpose of our divorce.”
“Divorce?” cried Mrs. Darling. “Do you want her to divorce you? What for?”
“So that I can be quit of her, and marry again if I find the right woman.”
Mrs. Darling held up her hands. “What sublime courage! But you mustn’t let marriage become a habit, for the divorce courts are very slow, you know. I have a woman friend who is already three marriages ahead of her divorces. I should have thought that a man like you, who is something of a philosopher and thinker, would now shun marriage like the plague. But I suppose even the cleverest men.... There is the famous case of Socrates, who died of an overdose of wedlock.”
“Hemlock,” he corrected her.
“Ah, yes, to be sure. Perhaps it is simply your youth: you still look very young, in spite of your recent death. I remember, in the days before my bright future had resolved itself into a shady past, I, too, was an optimist about marriage. But I was soon cured. So long as he liked me, my husband was so terribly jealous of me. It was quite intolerable. He would not even let my eyes wander from him. Why, I remember once turning my head away from him for a moment because I had hiccups, and being instantly cured by his seizing my throat in a consequent fit of passion.... Were you ever jealous of Dolly?”
“No,” said Jim; “and this afternoon I saw her making love to George Merrivall without any feeling except annoyance with myself for ever having believed in her.”
“Poor Dolly,” sighed her mother. “I am devoted to her, as you know; but I do realize her faults, and I know what you had to put up with.”