“You are the world at large and I say to you: ‘This man is no longer my husband.’ No more than that should be necessary. You don’t want any more than that, do you, René?”
“Even that seems to me a needless statement of fact, but perhaps I’m extreme.”
The Professor rose and stood with his back to the fireplace: “All this,” he said, “is extremely distasteful. You are making a mock of marriage.”
Said René:
“We know more about it than you. We’ve tried disruption and you haven’t. We’re both the better for it. The fact is, there is no such thing as marriage. There are marriages, and precious few of them. Yours, no doubt, is one of the few.”
The Professor was mollified, swallowed the harangue he had prepared, and sat down again.
René took Linda to her house in a remote suburb. She said:
“You know I quite dreaded meeting you again. I always had a feeling I should. The poor dear Professor was quite disappointed because we didn’t make a scene.”
“Oh, he didn’t mind once we made it quite clear that we were casting no shadow of doubt upon the sanctity of his own domestic happiness. They’re all like that.”