“And you won’t talk about being kept a prisoner?”
Monica laughed.
“Oh no, I won’t say anything at all.”
She scarcely knew what words fell from her lips. Let him propose, let him do what he liked; to her it was indifferent. She saw something before her—something she durst not, even an hour ago, have steadily contemplated; it drew her with the force of fate.
“You know we couldn’t go on living like this—don’t you, Monica?”
“No, we couldn’t.”
“You see!” He almost shouted in triumph, misled by the smile on her face. “All that was needed was resolution on my part. I have been absurdly weak, and weakness in the husband means unhappiness in the wife. From to-day you look to me for guidance. I am no tyrant, but I shall rule you for your own good.”
Still she smiled.
“So there’s an end of our misery—isn’t it, darling? What misery! Good God, how I have suffered! Haven’t you known it?”
“I have known it too well.”