"Don't you know—do you not see that it would be for Elinor's happiness to cast off this hideous life of pretence, and become my second self, my wife, the mistress of my dear old home?"
"She would be mad to listen to you," said Angel fiercely; "she will suffer, when you leave; she will mourn as for a death—oh, it will be a hard trial, but it is better to suffer and be strong now, and get it over, than to endure agonies of shame later on, and always. She will never listen to your plan. If she did, I would hold her back by main force; if she went she would have to drag me along with her. I will never let her go."
"I always thought you were her friend, and wished for her happiness."
"I am her friend—and I do not wish for her disgrace."
"Why are you so narrow-minded? Many divorcés are in society; and Elinor is so sweet and so good—her influence will always be felt wherever she goes."
"No, not when it is known that she has left her husband—with you. You must practise before you preach; and if I have read Mr. Gordon's character correctly, he will never divorce his wife."
"So," after a long pause Lindsay said, "you are not on my side?"
"No, nor ever will be—and what a discussion for a dinner-party!"
"It was my only opportunity. I asked Du Visne—he's a pal of mine—to send us in together if possible."
"If he had known your object, he would have turned you out; now let us talk of anything—or nothing else. Ah! I see people putting on their gloves; thank goodness, we are going at last."