“Yes,” she answered promptly. “I will—if you like.”
“And you won’t be hurt? You won’t be petty? You won’t think I’m not fond of you, Marian?”
She shook her head.
“You see, don’t you, that we can be just as fond of each other, and yet go our separate ways?”
“Are we—does that mean—that we’re to—part?” she asked.
He came over and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“My dear girl,” he said, “I can’t live with you any longer.”
She couldn’t restrain a sob.
“Oh, Andy! Oh! Is there—some one else?”
“No! Can’t you see? I want to be alone—to live alone—in freedom. I’ll take a house for myself somewhere, and you’ll go on here, just as usual; except that I’d like to have the children part of the time. I won’t be unreasonable, though.”