"Happy!" she gasped. "Why should I be happy?"
"I-I—love you, dearest," said Osborn in a tremulous voice.
"You g-go out, and every d-day it's the same for me. All day I'm alone; and I loathe the work. Everything's always the same."
"I wish I could give you a change, sweetheart," said Osborn, terribly harassed.
She hated herself because she could not be generous, but somehow she could find no generous words to speak.
"Shall I stay with you this evening, Marie?"
"No. You've p-promised. And I'm not that sort; you t-t-told him so!"
"Is that all that's the matter, Marie? Because everything's always the same?"
"I'm so tired. And ragged, somehow."
"Oh, Marie, I wish I could stay at home to-day and look after you. You'll lie down and rest, won't you?"