“Yes, but I did marry him.”
“Yes, but you hadn’t been married already. You hadn’t knocked round half the globe for twenty-eight years. It’s no good my pretending to be shocked at myself. I don’t care a bit what anybody thinks about me, and, anyway, it’s done now.”
“Surely you’d be happier if you married Arthur after—after that,” Mrs. Madden suggested.
“But I’m not in the least unhappy. I can’t say whether I shall marry Arthur until I’ve given my performance. I can’t say what effect either success or failure will have on me. My whole mind is concentrated in the Pierian Hall next October.”
“I’m afraid I cant understand this modern way of looking at things.”
“But there’s nothing modern about my point of view, Mrs. Madden. There’s nothing modern about the egotism of an artist. Arthur is as free as I am. He has his own career to think about. He does think about it a great deal. He’s radically much more interested in that than in marrying me. The main point is that he’s free at present. From the moment I promise to marry him and he accepts that promise he won’t be free. Nor shall I. It wouldn’t be fair on either of us to make that promise now, because I must know what October is going to bring forth.”
“Well, I call it very modern. When I was young we looked at marriage as the most important event in a girl’s life.”
“But you didn’t, dear Mrs. Madden. You, or rather your contemporaries, regarded marriage as a path to freedom—social freedom, that is. Your case was exceptional. You fell passionately in love with a man beneath you, as the world counts it. You married him, and what was the result? You were cut off by your relations as utterly as if you had become the concubine of a Hottentot.”
“Oh, Sylvia dear, what an uncomfortable comparison!”
“Marriage to your contemporaries was a social observance. I’m not religious, but I regard marriage as so sacred that, because I’ve been divorced and because, so far as I know, my husband is still alive, I have something like religious qualms about marrying again. It takes a cynic to be an idealist; the sentimentalist gets left at the first fence. It’s just because I’m fond of Arthur in a perfectly normal way when I’m not immersed in my ambition that I even contemplate the notion of marrying him. I’ve got a perfectly normal wish to have children and a funny little house of my own. So far as I know at present, I should like Arthur to be the father of my children. But it’s got to be an equal business. Personally I think that the Turks are wiser about women than we are; I think the majority of women are only fit for the harem and I’m not sure that the majority wouldn’t be much happier under such conditions. The incurable vanity of man, however, has removed us from our seclusion to admire his antics, and it’s too late to start shutting us up in a box now. Woman never thought of equality with man until he put the notion into her head.”