Hard words they were, yet sadly spoken. During them the beautiful subject had wavered between pique and pleasure. At their finish, she offered her child-sweet laugh.
“After this, I can refuse you nothing. Name the rather unusual favor which you say you have come to ask!”
“I wish you, Catherine, to get a divorce.”
“You—you want a divorce?”
Astonishment overcame both pique and pleasure.
“The boy was our only link. Now that he is gone, free me. You may have the money—as much of it as you want. I can make more. Of late I’ve had literally forced on me plenty of that which is my value in your eyes. I’ll try to meet any demands you make. You see, I assume that you have no reason other than money for keeping up this pretense longer.”
“So, it has come to this?”
Both face and form relaxed as she coaxed the cushions to give her greater comfort. The astonishment in her eyes had been replaced by shrewdness; that, in turn, by mild amusement. But the golden lines of her eye-brows were arched, as always when she was at mental tension.
“Do you intend this request, my hitherto immaculate John, to be taken as a confession of guilt?”
“Guilt?”