"Jim, we're not fitted for each other!" The sob rose triumphant and because in his soul Norval knew that she spoke the truth, he was furious and ready to fight.
"Rot!" he cried. "Now see here, Kit, don't get the temperament bug; there's nothing in it! You can do your job and yet keep clean and safe; do it best by playing the game honest. Good God! I haven't smutted up my life along with my canvas, you don't have to. It's the fashion, thank the Lord, to be decent, although gifted. Your book has run you down, old girl. Let's cut and forget it!"
The indignation of the narrow, weak, and stubborn swayed Katherine Norval.
"Jim," she said, gulping and holding desperately to "The Awakened Soul," "I think we should be—be—divorced."
"Punk!" Norval snapped his fingers. "Unless you've given cause, there isn't any."
"I—I cannot live under present conditions, Jim."
"All right, we'll get a new set."
"You are making fun and I am deadly in earnest."
"You mean you want to chuck me?" Norval frowned, but something was steadying him.
"I mean that I must live my life."