“A wife is a wife,” pursued Herr Paul; “a man has a right to her society.”
“What do you say to that, sir?” asked Dawney.
Mr. Treffry tugged at his beard: “Make a woman live with you, if she don't want to? I call it low.”
“But, my dear,” exclaimed Herr Paul, “how should you know? You have not been married.”
“No, thank the Lord!” Mr. Treffry replied.
“But looking at the question broadly, sir,” said Dawney; “if a husband always lets his wife do as she likes, how would the thing work out? What becomes of the marriage tie?”
“The marriage tie,” growled Mr. Treffry, “is the biggest thing there is! But, by Jove, Doctor, I'm a Dutchman if hunting women ever helped the marriage tie!”
“I am not thinking of myself,” Herr Paul cried out, “I think of the community. There are rights.”
“A decent community never yet asked a man to tread on his self-respect. If I get my fingers skinned over my marriage, which I undertake at my own risk, what's the community to do with it? D'you think I'm going to whine to it to put the plaster on? As to rights, it'd be a deuced sight better for us all if there wasn't such a fuss about 'em. Leave that to women! I don't give a tinker's damn for men who talk about their rights in such matters.”
Sarelli rose. “But your honour,” he said, “there is your honour!”