“Godfrey, how can you!” cried she, in her most exaggerated tone for outraged spirituality. “Have you no heart? Have you no respect for me—your wife, the mother of your daughter?”
“Have I not said I did not suspect you?” remonstrated I. “Why so agitated, my dear? Do you wish to make me begin to suspect?”
She shrank and began to cool down. “I’ve never had such an experience before,” she apologized. “I don’t know how to take it.”
“It’s nothing—nothing,” I declared.
“I give you my word of honor that if I were free I should not consider marrying that German.”
“I believe you.” I put out a friendly hand. “Good night.”
“This ends all talk of divorce,” said she.
I dropped my hand. “I don’t see that the situation is changed in the least.”
“That’s because you are not a woman,” replied she. “You can’t appreciate how I feel.”
“You wished to be free before this paragraph appeared. You still wish to be free.”