She flashed him one blazing look, then resumed her walking and her angry rush of words.
"Why, if some four-year-old child came in here and began to contend for Derry's place," Rachael asked passionately, "how long would we seriously consider his right? If I must dispute the title of Magsie Clay this year, why not of Jennie Jones next year, of Polly Smith the year after that? If--"
"Now you are talking recklessly," Warren Gregory said quietly, "and you have entirely lost sight of the point at issue. Nobody is attempting a controversy with you."
The cool, analytical voice robbed Rachael of all her fire. She sat down, and was silent.
"What you say is quite true," pursued Warren, "and of course, if a woman chooses to stand on her RIGHTS--if it becomes a question of legal obligation--"
"Warren! When was our marriage that?"
"I don't say it was that! I am protesting because YOU talk of rights and titles. I only say that if the problem has come down to a mere question of what is LEGAL, why, that in itself is a confession of failure!"
"Failure!" she echoed with white lips.
"I am not speaking of ourselves, I tell you!" he said, annoyed. "But can any sane person in these days deny that when a man and woman no longer pull together in double harness, our world accepts an honorable change?"
Rachael was silent. These had been her words eight years ago.