“You aren’t going to tell me that woman’s place is in the home, and that I ought to get married? That would sound strange, coming from you!”
“Why? I am married.”
“Yes.... You’re lucky,” she said looking at him, sombrely.
“I know I am. But what do you mean?”
“Your marriage. You’re living your theories.”
Felix smiled. “What theories do you mean? You didn’t take seriously everything Clive said at our wedding, did you?”
She looked at him earnestly. “Clive wrote me you were living up to your theories—you and Rose-Ann. Isn’t it true?”
“Oh—that.”
He knew that she meant the Dorothy episode. Rose-Ann had told Clive about it, and Clive had used the anecdote more than once to point a modernistic moral. Phyllis was not the only young person who had heard strange tales of this wonderful “free” marriage.
Phyllis’s eyes questioned him fiercely, anxiously.