“Men have said that to me before,” she answered, “and there was one man whom I believed.... We built the house of our life upon that foundation, but it fell to ruins all the same. Soon he ceased to tell me that he loved me.”
“You are a married woman then?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Tell me who you are,” he begged.
She shook her head. “No,” she replied. “I have no name. I have left him.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because we disliked one another. It seemed to me altogether wrong that a man and a woman totally out of sympathy with one another should continue to live together. So I made my exit. I live by selling my pictures.”
“Were there any children?” he asked.
“No,” she answered. “If there had been, I suppose I should have remained with him. Like flowers, they hide many a sepulchre.”
“It was brave of you to go,” he said.