And I rehearsed to her a desperate resolve I had made ... to find a woman of the streets, in New York, when I went in, the ensuing week ... and force myself, no matter how I loathed it—
I buried my head in her lap and sobbed hysterically.
Then I apologised—"forgive me if I have been too frank!"
"I am a radical woman ... Penton and I both believe in the theory of free love, though we happen to be married ... what you have told me is all sweet and natural to me ... only—you must not do what you say you'll do—in New York!—"
"I must, or—" and I paused, to go on in a lower, embarrassed voice ... "Do—do you know what else I thought of—dreamed of—?
"In Paris—I understand—men live with women as a matter of course—
"You see—" I was hot with shame to the very ears, "you see—there, you know,—I thought if I went there I would find some pretty little French girl that I would take to live with me ... in some romantic attic in the Montmartre district ... and we would be happy together ... and I would be grateful, so grateful, to her!"
"Why you're the Saint Francis of the Radicals," Hildreth exclaimed.
"Please don't make fun of me ... I suppose you think me very foolish."
"Foolish?... No, I think you have a very beautiful soul. I wish every man had a soul like that."