Finally there was a lull, after all three had had their says several times over, and were trying to think up new ones.
"Jim," said Georgia slowly and deliberately, for she felt that the hour had come, "why not make this our last quarrel?"
"That's up to you," he returned belligerently.
"By making it permanent."
"What do you mean!" answered Jim, now a trifle alarmed.
"I mean that the time has come for us to separate, for the good of all of us."
She looked straight at him, until he dropped his red and watery eyes before her strong gray ones. There was a pause, a solemn pause in that poor family.
"Children," said the older woman softly and timidly, "there is such a thing as carrying bitter words too far."
"Mother, when two people come to the situation we're in, Jim and I," for the first time there was a semblance of sympathy for the man in her voice, "then I believe the only thing they can do, and stay decent, is to separate. To go on living together when they neither like nor love each other——"
"How do you know? I never said that," Jim said humbly.