“I’m sorry, too,” said Bertha.
“I want to thank you for all you did for me in the old days,” pursued her hostess. Their positions were reversed; it was she who led the conversation, while Bertha replied.
“If it hadn’t been for you I should never have been married at all.”
“My dear, I had absolutely nothing to do with the matrimonial cyclone which swept you off,” said Bertha, laughing again.
“Yes, you did, you were so happy, it made me very envious to see you and your husband together. If it hadn’t been for that, I don’t think I’d ever have had the courage to say yes when Will asked me. And you were so kind and good to me, and I know I’m only a stupid thing at best.”
“You’re just a dear,” said Bertha very warmly. Then the two women had a long and exhaustive conversation, before they finally parted.
“She’s very handsome,” said Bertha to her husband that night. He was quite interested and curious about it all. “She’s rich, and she’s happy. Isn’t she the last woman on earth you would have imagined such a romance happening to!”
“Yes, indeed,” said Richard.
“What do you suppose there is in married life to improve a girl so? She’s not in the least uninteresting now.”
“Judge from your own experience,” said Richard. “Association with a superior being cannot fail—”