“But, my dear, I can’t get away. I should be mad—”
“But you can let me go. Mrs. Montgomery wants to take me back with her.”
If he had given her time she would doubtless have approached the subject with tact and many delicate subterfuges; but her mind was wearied and possessed.
He stared at her incredulously.
“I really mean it. The only reasons I can put into shape are that I am desperately tired of this everlasting round of English life, and homesick for California.”
“Are you tired of me?”
“No; but I believe that a short separation would be better for us both. I can’t make you understand, for you have never cared to understand me. I adapted myself, and you took me for granted—”
“Have you been playing a part?”
“Heaven knows I have been serious enough. It is that as much as anything else—I want to cease being serious for a while.”
Cecil continued to stare at her. His tan had worn off, and he paled slightly. When a man after several years of married life is suddenly informed that he does not understand his wife the shock is trying to his mental faculties and to his patience.