She had sat down on the sofa beside me, but I was not going to be talked over like that. Her words had roused in me the instinctive antagonism of the sexes, and I got up and walked up and down, an occupation which demanded some care amidst the miniature inlaid furniture with which the small room was somewhat overcrowded.
'You know, my dear,' I began rather drily, looking at the ceiling, which was not far above my head, 'when things get so radically wrong between husband and wife, as they seem to be between you and Fabian, the fault is very seldom all on one side.'
'But it is in this case.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes, quite sure.'
'You think you are not to blame in the least?'
'In this, no.'
'And that all the fault lies on poor Fabian's side?'
'Oh no.'
'Well, on whose side does it lie then?'