"My dear——"
"I'm used to it. My people took me that way, too. Only they hadn't a scientific turn of mind, like Henry. They didn't think it interesting; and they haven't Henry's angelic patience and forbearance. I was the only one of the family, don't you know, who wasn't quite sane; and yet—so unlike Henry—they considered me rather more responsible than any of them. I couldn't get off anything on the grounds of my insanity."
All the time, while thus tormenting him, she seemed profoundly occupied with the hand she held, caressing it with swift, nervous, tender touches.
"After all," she said, "I haven't turned out so badly; even from Henry's point of view, have I?"
He laughed. "What is Henry's point of view?"
She looked up at him quickly. "You know, and I know that Henry didn't want you to marry me."
The uncaptured hand closed over hers, holding it tighter than she herself could hold.
"No," she said. "I'm not the sort of woman Henry would want you to marry. To please Henry——"
"I didn't marry to please Henry."
"To please Henry you should have married placable flesh and blood, very large and handsome, without a nerve in her body. The sort of woman who has any amount of large and handsome flesh-and-blood children, and lives to have them, thrives on them. That's Henry's idea of the right woman."