"I must be independent as well as free." The truth was out at last—the truth her nature as a woman of sheltered breeding was always dodging, but which her intelligence and pride were forcing her to face. "I must be independent."
"There couldn't be any question of that kind between us."
"There shan't be," replied she with energy that startled him.
"I'll settle any amount you say on you. I'll make myself your dependent if you wish."
She laughed in a sweet, tender way. Whatever his faults and failings, he certainly was generous. "Basil!" she murmured. Then: "As if that would help matters. Why, anything I got from you would only increase my dependence. No, I must be really free—so neither of us could think for an instant I was your wife because I had to be supported—or you were my husband because you felt I was helpless. We women have got to stop being canary birds if we're to get real self-respect—or real consideration."
"What queer notions you do get," said he with man's tolerant amusement at the fantasies of the women and the children. "Think of wasting such a night—and our few minutes together—discussing theories—and sordid ones!"
"Sordid! Basil, we're made out of earth and we've got to live on the ground. I'm done forever with the kind of romance and idealism we were brought up on. I'm going to build as high as I can, but I'm going to build on the ground. No more cloud castles that vanish when the wind changes. I'm going to use romance for decoration not for building stone, and cakes for dessert, not in place of bread."
He laughed appreciatively. "How clever you are! We'll get on beautifully," he said. "You're the sort of woman that never bores a man or makes him feel like looking about."
"Are you the sort of man that never bores a woman or makes her feel like looking about?"
"That's not for me to say," answered he with a careless laugh.