“We are not suited to each other, Godfrey,” said she with gentle friendliness.
“There’s not a doubt of that,” said I.
“Why should we spoil each other’s lives? I conceal it from you, but I am so unhappy here.”
“You can’t blame me,” said I. “I’m not detaining you.”
A long silence, then she said: “Suppose I were to consent—” I laughed, she reddened, corrected herself: “Suppose we were to decide to do it—what then?”
“Why—a divorce,” said I.
“Can’t those things be done quietly?”
“Certainly. No publicity until the decree is entered and the papers sealed.”
“Does that mean no scandal beyond just the fact?”
“No scandal at all. Just the fact, and some newspaper comment.”