"My wife left me."
"And you divorced her! And you have no children."
"If I had had children," said Heriot musingly, "it is a fact that the consequences would have been worse."
"But in any case," said the Baronet, "it was a huge mistake. Really one may be frank, in the circumstances! You married madly. The probability is that if your wife had been—if you were living together still, you would be a miserable man to-day. It was a very lamentable affair, of course, when it happened, but regarding it coolly—in looking back on it—don't you fancy that perhaps things are just as well as they are?"
"I was very fond of my wife," replied Heriot, engrossed by his cigar.
"To an extent," said Sir Francis indulgently, "no doubt you had an affection for her. But, my dear fellow, what companionship had you? Was she a companion?"
"I don't know."
"Was she interested in your career? Could she understand your ways of thought? Was she used to your world? One doesn't ask a great deal of women, but had you any single thing in common?"
"I don't know," said Heriot again.
Sir Francis shrugged his shoulders.