"Why not?" she demanded.
She asked the question quite honestly. He had forgotten Marie utterly until this moment, and she seemed to join the party like an intruder. Always she would be upon the back seat.
"Wouldn't you feel freer without her?" he asked.
"I should n't feel at all proper," she declared.
"Then we might just as well not have been married."
"Only," she laughed, "if we had n't taken that precaution it would n't have been proper for me to go, even with Marie."
"I'm glad we've accomplished something, anyhow," he answered good-naturedly.
"We've accomplished a great deal," she assured him. "Yesterday morning I could n't—at this time—have done even the proper things and felt proper. Oh, you don't know how people look at you, and how that look makes you feel, even when you know better. I could n't have sat here at breakfast with you and felt comfortable. Now we can sit here and plan a wonderful trip like this. It's all because you're just Monte."
"And you just you!"
"Only I don't count for anything. It makes me feel even more selfish than I am."