"Go on," said she. "We must be frank with each other."
"If the idea of living with me is—is disagreeable——" And again he stopped, greatly embarrassed—an amazing indication of the state of mind of such a man as he—of the depth of his infatuation, of his respect, of his new-sprung awe of conventionality.
"I hadn't given it a thought," replied she. "Women are not especially sensitive about that sort of thing."
"They're supposed to be. And I rather thought you were."
She laughed mockingly. "No more than other women," said she. "Look how they marry for a home—or money—or social position—and such men! And look how they live with men year after year, hating them. Men never could do that."
"Don't you believe it," replied he. "They can, and they do. The kept man—in and out of marriage—is quite a feature of life in our chaste little village."
Susan looked amused. "Well—why not?" said she. "Everybody's simply got to have money nowadays."
"And working for it is slow and mighty uncertain."
Her face clouded. She was seeing the sad wretched past from filthy tenement to foul workshop. She said:
"Where shall I send you word?"