“I want to persuade Ora to divorce her husband and marry me.”
“Aw—that is—Good Lord!” Ida sat up straight and nearly dropped her cup. “That’s a large order.”
“Rather. But I—now—want nothing less. I am sick of the other sort of thing, even if she were not too good for it. I want to marry—and she is the only woman I ever have wanted to marry.”
“Hm. You Italians haven’t the name of being the best husbands in the world. How long would you be faithful to her?”
“I have no intention of ever being anything else.”
“That’s what they all say—think, no doubt.”
“I shall be.” He spoke with intense conviction.
“Well, perhaps—you’ve lived your life. I should think you men would get mighty sick of dancing about and never coming to anchor. But divorce? There’s Mark, you know.”
“Her present husband?”
“Yes, and a rattling good fellow. He married Ora when she didn’t know which way to turn, and she is really grateful to him, and as fond of him as if he were her own brother. I don’t think she’ll turn him down.”