"When you think of the life I lead him at home it takes heaps off his merit. The kindest thing I can do to him is to go away and stay away. George, you don't know how I've tormented the poor darling."
"I can imagine."
"He was an angel to bear it."
She became pensive at the recollection.
"Sometimes I wonder whether I ought, really, to have married. You told me that I oughtn't."
"When?"
"Six years ago."
"Well—I'm inclined to say so still. Only, the unpardonable sin in a great artist—isn't so much marrying as marrying the wrong person."
"He isn't the wrong person for me. But I'm afraid I'm the wrong person for him."
"It comes to the same thing."