"Yes, you might look at it in that way; but you can easily see what it would be to me to enter a family where I wasn't wanted."
"That's a bit strong," he corrected. "They'd want you right enough, once they knew you. It would only be the—the fact of—the—"
She helped him out. "The divorce."
He nodded and finished. "That they'd jib at. Even then—"
"Oh, please don't think I'm blaming them. I should do exactly the same, in their case."
"They're really not half bad, you know," he tried to explain. "Mother's an awfully decent sort, and so is Di. Aggie's a bit cattish. But then she'll soon be married. Fellow named Jenkins, in the Guards. And then," he added, irrelevantly, "you're an American."
"Which is another disadvantage."
"No," he said, with emphasis. "The other way round when it comes to a—a—" He stumbled at the word, but faced it eventually: "When it comes to a divorce, you know."
She looked at him mistily. "No, I don't know. Aren't a divorced Englishwoman and a divorced American in very much the same position?"
He hastened to reassure her. "Oh, Lord, no. Not in England they wouldn't be. A divorced Englishwoman—well, she's in rather a hole, you know; whereas a divorced American woman—that's natural."