He had her hand again, and this time she let him keep it. “That episode, that unfortunate and foolish episode, my marriage, is ended,” said Ferdinand, as he kissed her hand.
“Ah! Ended?” said Mrs. Watson. “You are no longer living with your wife? The marriage is dissolved?” Mrs. Watson's own marriage had been dissolved for some time; whether by death or by divorce Ferdinand had never taken the trouble to inquire.
“In the spiritual sense—and that is all that counts—dissolved,” said Ferdinand. And he could not help adding: “To-day.”
Mrs. Watson was breathing quickly... and suddenly she turned and put her head on his shoulder. And yet even as Ferdinand's mind cried “Victory!” he was aware of a strange doubt; for when he attempted to take her in his arms, she put up her hands and prevented a real embrace. He stood in perplexity. He felt that she was shaking with emotion; he heard muffled sounds... she was sobbing and weeping on his shoulder, or...
No! It could not be! Yes, the woman was laughing! Joy? Hysteria? What?
Suddenly she pushed him away from her, and faced him, controlling her laughter.
“Excuse me,” said Mrs. Watson, with the levity he had feared dancing in her eyes, “but such a silly idea occurred to me just as I was about to tell you that I would elope with you... it occurred to me that I had better tell you that all my money is tied up in a trust fund. I can never touch anything but the interest, you know.”
“Alethea,” said Ferdinand, chokingly, “such a thought at a time like this is unworthy of both of us!” And he advanced toward her again. But she stopped him.
“Just a moment, Ferdinand! I haven't told you all of my silly idea! I wondered also, you know, whether, if we ever got hard up and had to do our own work, you would break my dishes with a wooden stick and twist my arm until I howled!”
As Ferdinand slowly took in her words, he felt a sudden recession of vitality. He said nothing, but his knees felt weak, and he sat down on a chair.