“Master,” she said, “it isn't all sex and stuff between us?”
“No!”
“I can't give up the work. Our work's my life.”
We came upon another long pause.
“No one will believe we've ceased to be lovers—if we simply do,” she said.
“We shouldn't.”
“We've got to do something more parting than that.”
I nodded, and again we paused. She was coming to something.
“I could marry Shoesmith,” she said abruptly.
“But—” I objected.