"A very good thing too," says Tita, with a shrug of her shoulders.
"I hope he will stay there."
"But he won't," says Margaret in despair. "He returns to town in June. Tita, I hope—I do hope you will be sensible, and consent to see him then."
"Does he want to see me?" asks Tita.
Here Margaret is posed. Rylton had certainly known, that day she had gone up to Tita's room to bring her down, what her errand was, but he had not asked her to go upon it. He had expressed no desire, had shown no wish for a meeting with his wife.
"My dear—I——"
"Ah, you make a bad liar, Meg!" says Tita; "you ought to throw up the appointment. You aren't earning your salary honestly. And, besides, it doesn't matter. Even if he were _dying _to see me, I should still rather die than see him."
"That is not a right spirit, to——"
"I expect my spirit is as right as his," says Tita rebelliously, "and," with a sudden burst of indignation that does away with all sense of her duty to her language, "a thousand times righter for the matter of that. No, Margaret! No—no—no! I will not see him. Do you think I ever forget——"
"I had hoped, dearest, that——"
"It is useless to hope. What woman would forgive it? I knew he married me without loving me. That was all fair! He told me that. What he did not tell me was the vital thing—that he loved someone else."