“Are you so sure that is instinct? Or convention?” he asked, after a pause of half comprehension.
“Instinct—for certain.... Lovers are one. Whither you go, I go—in the spirit. You can’t go alone with another woman while I—while I—— In those things.... Oh, it’s inconceivable!”
“That’s a primitive point of view.”
“Love—lust for the matter of that.... They are primitive things,” said Dolly, undisguisedly wretched.
“There’s reason in the control of them.”
“Polygamy!” she cried scornfully.
Arthur was immensely disconcerted.
He lit a cigarette, and his movements were slow and clumsy.
“Ideas may differ,” he said lamely....
He did not make his personal confession after all.