"Take my word for it that, with such a girl as you married, your divorce wasn't an unmixed evil. It wasn't the release one would have chosen, but at least it was better for you than being tied to her for life. Damn it, George! what's the use of blinking the matter now? She was absolutely unsuited to you in every way; you must admit it!"
"I suppose she was. At the same time I was happy with her."
"How long would the infatuation have lasted?"
"It lasted more than three years."
"Would it have lasted another five?"
"Speaking honestly, I believe it would."
"Though you had nothing in common?"
"I don't explain," said Heriot. "I tell you, I was happy with her, that's all. Viewing it dispassionately, I suppose she was unsuited to me—I don't know that we did have anything in common; I don't see any justification for the fool's paradise I lived in. But for all that, if I married again, I should never care for the woman as—as I cared for her. In fact, I should merely marry to——" He was about to say "to try to forget her"—"to make a home for myself," he said, instead.
"Have you considered such a step?" asked Sir Francis.
"Sometimes, yes."