"I know—I know you love me."
"But I couldn't love you so much, if I didn't love Walter more."
"You well may, Edie. He's been a good brother to you."
"Some day you'll own he's been as good a husband as he's been a brother. Better; for it's a more difficult post, my dear. I don't really think my body, spine and all, can have tried him more than your spirit."
"What have I done? Tell me—tell me."
"Done? Oh, Nancy, I hate to have to say it to you. What haven't you done? There's no way in which you haven't hurt and humiliated him. I'm not thinking of your separation—I'm thinking of the way you've treated him, and his affection for you and Peggy. You won't let him love you. You won't even let him love his little girl."
"Does he say that?"
"Would he say it? People in my peculiar position don't require to have things said to them; they say them. You see, if I didn't say them now I should have to get up out of my grave and do it, and that would be ten times more disagreeable for you. It might even be very uncomfortable for me."
"Edie, I wish I knew when you were serious."
"Well, if I'm not serious now, when shall I be?"