"You have to clutch at and cling to somebody, don't you? You can't bear the idea of standing up by your own strength."
"You think I'm trying to fasten to you?" she said, with an angry laugh.
"I know it. You admitted it. You are not satisfied with the way things are going. You have doubts about your career. You shrink from your only comfortable alternative, if the career winks out. You ask me my opinion about yourself and about careers. I give it. Now, I find you asked only that you might have someone to lean on, to accuse of having got you into a mess, if doing what you think you ought to do turns out as badly as you fear."
It was the longest speech she had heard him make. She had no inclination to dispute his analysis of her motives. "I did not realize it," said she, "but that is probably so. But—remember how I was brought up."
"There's only one thing for you to do."
"Go back to my husband? You know—about me—don't you?"
"Yes"
"I can't go back to him."
"No."
"Then—what?" she asked.