"John," she said, struggling for her self-control, "you might at least tell the truth."
"What do you mean—the truth?"
"It's some other woman, of course!"
"I swear to you, Laura, it's nothing of the sort. I've been guilty of no act with any one—" But she shook her head.
"Don't I know?" she said. "It's always another woman. She's a young woman, whoever she is. Why don't you come out and tell me the truth, John? How long before you're going to be married?" The tears were welling steadily from her eyes, under the last of the many and bitter torments which are so often a woman's lot.
"I say to you again, Laura, there are no plans of that sort in my mind!"
"Then how long will it be before our—our—" She could not say the word "divorce." She had been an old-fashioned wife.
"I've no plans as to that. I was only wanting to discuss the matter quietly to-night, without any disturbance."
"No," she said, "I must not break down! Tell me, when does it come, John?" But still the tears came, steadily, and she made no effort to stop them.
"When you like. I would suggest that you quietly go to some other place, Laura. That will be best for me. Why—" he added this in a burst of confidence, "—there wouldn't be twenty people around town would know you'd gone! I can keep a close tongue, and so can you."