“Godfrey, do you want to marry again?” she asked with a sudden shrewd look straight into my eyes.
I laughed easily. “That question might better come from me,” said I. “You will never be happy, I suppose, until you are the Duchess or Princess Something-or-other.”
A flush stole over her small sweet face, making it lovelier than ever. “I never thought of such a thing,” she protested—but too energetically.
“Nonsense,” said I. “You’ve dreamed it for years. Be honest with me, Edna.”
“How could I dream it?” replied she. “It would take an awful lot of money.”
“You have quite a bunch,” said I. “And if we parted, naturally I’d give you more.”
Once again—but this time slowly—the searching gaze turned upon me.
I bore it well. “You can’t live as I live,” I went on. “I won’t live as you live. You say that means divorce. I don’t think so. Many rich American couples live apart without divorce. I believe usually the reason is the wife has found she couldn’t get a large enough slice of the husband’s fortune, if she divorced him. Still, for whatever reason, they stay married. You don’t like the idea. So I say, if you want to go I’ll give you as much as I gave Margot—in addition to what you already have—and my blessing. I’ve some sentiment about the past, but it is as a past.”
“I am—stunned,” said she. And I think her vanity was.
“It’s what you want?” rejoined I.