“You can say that I didn’t feel equal to entertaining this Winter, and I stayed at home to take care of my children. It will be true, too.”
He looked at her with solicitude in his face. “Do you mean that you are ill, Helen?”
“I’m sick. I’m sick of living,” she broke out. “But for the children, I could wish that I——”
“Then I don’t count in your feelings or in your life?” He hesitated, and when he spoke again it was in a tone of patience that betrayed the restraint he was putting on himself. “Helen, I think I have been pretty lenient with you so far, and if I let go now and then you can’t blame me. Since that night in Washington, the night of your ball, you’ve been a changed woman. You keep the children away from me as if you were afraid I’d contaminate them. You have cut down our expenses and forced us all to live as if we were on the verge of poverty. You’ve made our house as gloomy as a tomb. Now, I warn you, look out! Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“And you propose to go on in this way?”
“That is one reason why I have decided not to go to Washington.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“Because I saw how unhappy I made you. I thought you would be happier without me. And I can’t be different—I can’t!” she broke out, passionately. “I can’t live as we used to live, knowing that the money I spend——”
She checked herself. Douglas Briggs waited. “Well?” he said.