She was silent.
“I can’t help you unless you do.”
“Oh, it was so sordid!” cried she. “And I thought him high above those things.”
“No one that’s human is,” said I. “Any person who wears pants or skirts that have to be paid for is not above money.”
“He wanted me to turn over to him all I had,” said she. “Think of that!”
“I might have known,” said I.
“He said it was beneath his dignity as an English gentleman to have a wife independent of him. And, do you know, papa, I was so infatuated that I almost yielded. I could see his point of view. And I’d have been glad to come to him for every cent. Only—” She stopped short.
“Only what?” I urged.
“I heard about that other woman. And his way of treating me— He said it was the proper way for a marquis to treat his marchioness. And I liked the dignity and the beauty of it all, when others were about. But it seemed to me that when we were alone— Oh, papa, I can’t tell you these things.”
“Never mind,” said I. “I understand.”