"Yes, I suppose you may say I had tired of her," said Jack. "That is your point of view. There is another."
"And what can that be?" asked Marie.
"You may not believe it—but——"
"It is true, I may not believe it. What I know is that about a month ago you changed your behaviour to me. You began to pay me little attentions. Once you kissed me; once——"
Jack's lips compressed a little.
"You may not believe it," he said again, "but what I tell you is true. You may say I tired of her. I say I fell in love—again—with you."
Marie sat down again. The passion for analysis, of which Jim Spencer had accused her, was strong in her. She was intensely interested.
"Let me understand," she said. "You are originally in love with me; then you fall in love with Mildred; then you fall in love with me again. Is that it? We take turns. Were there others? You have gratified your whims; why may not I gratify my curiosity?"
Jack did not reply for a moment. Then, "I never fell in love with her," he said. "But a man is a man."
"And a woman only a woman," said Marie. "No, I ought not to have said that. That is not what we are here for. I want to know quite simply what you have got to say for yourself."