"If he were not a great gentleman nothing would have happened in the first place," she said with cool pride. "But I asked you if there were no way to save him."
"I can think of only two ways. If your husband would write and ask him to return to San Francisco—"
"He'd never do that."
"Then you might—you might—" He was fair and blushed easily. Being secretly a sentimental youth he was shy of any of the verbal expressions of sentiment; but he swallowed and continued heroically. "You—you—I think you love him. I can see you are not heartless, that you are terribly cut up. If you love him enough you might save him. A man like Masters can quit cold no matter how far he has gone if the inducement is great enough. If you went to New York—"
He paused and glanced at her apprehensively, but although she had gasped she only shook her head sadly.
"I'll never break my husband's heart and the vows I made at the altar, no matter what happens."
"Oh, you good women! I believe you are at the root of more disaster than all the strumpets put together!"
"It may be. I remember he once said something of the sort. But he loved me for what I am and I cannot change myself."
"You could get a divorce."
"I have no ground. And I would not if I had. He knows that."