"Not at all. He makes heavy investments in education. He accumulates a store of experience, of appreciation, of discrimination. He learns to distinguish pearl from paste. It's the habit of women of your kind to become offended if men tell them the honest truth.... Doubtless, Armstrong——"
"Don't! I don't care to hear."
"You interrupt too quickly. I question whether women interest him at all, he's so busy with his gambling. Sensible man, happy man—to have a passion for inanimate things. What I was about to say is that you women, with all your admiration for strength, are piqued and angered by the discovery that a man who is worth while is stronger than any of his passions, even the strongest, even love."
"When a woman gives, she gives all."
"Not a woman such as you are. And that's why I know you will recover, will go on, the stronger and, some day, the happier for it. The broken bone, when it has healed, is stronger than one that has never been broken—and the broken heart also. The world owes its best to strong hearts that have been broken and have healed." He let her reflect on this before he repeated, "You should go abroad."
"Not yet—not just yet."
"Soon," said he. "It will be painful for you to stay here—especially as the truth about him is coming out now."
"The truth!" she exclaimed. Her look, like a deer that has just caught the first faint scent and sound of alarm, warned him he had blundered.
"Oh, nothing new," replied he carelessly. "You know the life of shame they lead, downtown."
"But what of him?" she insisted. She was sitting up in her chair now, her face, her whole body, alert.