"Very well, but why cannot my lady extend her charity? There are other unfortunates besides Lawrence who have troubles to face."
"Oh, Philip, you really haven't any troubles. You merely imagine you have."
He laughed, a little bitterly. "I suppose a life's happiness is a small thing."
"It isn't, Philip," she protested. "But you can get out and tramp and trap and see things, and, after all, you don't really love me as you thought you did. We've settled all that."
"I know we have," he agreed. "That is, you have."
She looked him over, angrily. "So this is the outcome! I ask you to think of another person who needs our care, and you disregard him for your own little troubles!"
Philip looked down and flushed crimson. "Well, it does seem as if I were selfish. I am afraid I am. But I do not mean to be. I can talk to him if you wish."
"You needn't," she said, angered still more. "It isn't charity I'm asking you to bestow on him. He doesn't need that, and you ought to know it."
She had laid more emphasis than she intended on the word "he," and Philip's face darkened.
"I see," he said coldly. "It is I after all to whom you are charitable. Thank you."