Frieda frowned. "Don't talk of next time, Jack. I can't imagine your having a family. I hate being married." And without any other warning two large tears rolled down Frieda's cheeks.
"I'd rather tell you what has happened between Henry and me this minute and get through with it. And I'd prefer to tell you without Olive's hearing. I don't mean to be impolite, but Olive is almost an old maid and old maids always take the man's part."
In spite of her anxiety Jack was compelled to laugh. Frieda had always been such a funny mixture of babyishness and worldly wisdom.
She was now sitting up in bed with a number of white pillows piled behind her and wearing a light blue cashmere jacket over her gown. The English air was cooler than that to which she was accustomed.
"I hope nothing very serious, Frieda?"
"Nevertheless it is so serious that I never intend to speak to Henry Russell again, if I can avoid it. You see," Frieda sighed, "I suppose it is better to begin at the beginning and tell the whole thing. But, then, who knows when anything actually begins? At any rate during the first two years after Henry and I were married you remember we lived with Henry's parents. They were awfully nice to me and gave me hundreds of presents, but after awhile I became tired of living in another's house. Oh, the house was big and I had plenty of rooms, but you know it isn't like having a home of one's own is it, Jack?"
After waiting for her sister to nod agreement, Frieda went on.
"So I told Henry I wanted a house to myself, and I must say he and his mother and father were very nice about it—at first." Frieda made a dramatic pause.
"It was Henry's fault all through though. You know he is the only child and his mother and father are dreadfully rich. But what do you suppose Henry decided? When we went to housekeeping for ourselves we were to live on the income he made as a Professor! Did you ever hear of anything so selfish?"
"Well dear," Jack hesitated "maybe in a way it was selfish, because of course Henry's father and mother must have been disappointed not to be able to do for you. But, after all, it was self respecting of Henry. I suppose a man—especially an American one—likes to feel that he is able to be responsible for his own family."