"As a general proposition, yes; varied, however, by the dramatis personae—and the circumstances."
"What should I have done?" Lorraine demanded.
"Anything but what you did do," returned Devereux kindly. "But that isn't the question that confronts you now, and is up to you for decision, and which you alone can decide. Don't make another blunder; you can't afford it—and neither can Stephanie." He leaned forward and put his hand on the other's knee. "Consider well, Lorraine. Stephanie and you are young—the world is before you. Make it as easy going for both of you as you can. You are a long time dead, remember."
"At least when we're dead we're done!" Lorraine broke out.
"Maybe you are—but I haven't heard of anyone who knows; and you'd best not chance it when it is so easy to do the right thing now."
"And the right thing is?" asked Lorraine sarcastically.
"What is best for you both—if you can't be reconciled, then be divorced."
Lorraine smiled a sickly smile, and made no answer.
"Gratuitous advice is rarely acceptable, I know," Devereux went on, "but it is honest and well meant, and comes from a life-long friend of you both. Now, Lorraine, we will say no more on the subject."—He struck the bell. "Take Mr. Lorraine's order," he said to the waiter.