And above all, he wished to consider Mr. Petersen. He was more anxious to spare him than to spare Minnie. His one comfort was that he was not “wronging” that honest man, that he was, in fact, making an honourable and terribly difficult sacrifice for him, in thus giving up to him not only Minnie but little Sandra. He would leave Mr. Petersen undisturbed in his fool’s Paradise. He wanted passionately, with all his soul, to do this one decent thing, to atone for Minnie’s sins and his own by this restitution. It saved him in his own eyes.
Minnie did not oppose him. But she begged him to wait until she was a little better. She was so heart-broken over the separation and so docile that he yielded, and waited there in Mr. Petersen’s house during the days of her convalescence.
But, no sooner had she begun to grow well again than she began shamelessly to—as the novels say—persecute him with her attentions. He was immeasurably shocked; he told her plainly what he thought of such conduct. Under Mr. Petersen’s very roof!
“But you’re my own husband,” said Minnie.
“Do you mean to say you’re so depraved that you can’t see? That you’d deceive that fine fellow again?”
“He’s nothing to me,” said Minnie, “I never even pretended to love him.”
And added:
“I only did it for Sandra’s sake.”
“Didn’t you know it was criminal? You’re a bigamist. You——”
She began to cry.