“Of course Ursula will marry again,” said Helena. “People who have been married like that always do.”
“Like what?”
“Willie, you are insufferable. Surely, ‘le secret d’ennuyer, c’est de tout demander.’ Like that. Neither happily nor unhappily. They have had a glimpse of possibilities. It is like gambling without a decisive turn of luck either way; one goes on. I should marry again.”
“If I give you a chance,” grinned Willie, who understood that.
“Which you are not gallant enough to do. Unless you seriously object, Willie, I should like to go on with my book.”
He walked across and took it out of her hand.
“La Terre!” he said. “Really, Nellie, your tastes are catholic.”
“Have you read it?” she asked, with a faint blush.
“Yes. Somebody told me it was Zola’s dirtiest, so I looked at it once in a way.”