"Oh, it wasn't for the sake of your fine eyes, Mr. I-don't-know-your-name. It was because of her. I could see her saying to her dear little self, 'That woman isn't straight. He isn't straight, either. He won't do.' That's the sort of man she thought you were."
"But it wasn't as if she didn't know me, as if she didn't care. She did care."
"She did, indeed."
"Then why," he persisted, "why did she leave me?"
"Don't you understand?" (Her voice went all thick and tender in her throat.) "She was thinking of the children. You couldn't see her with those teeny, teeny things, and not know that's what she would think of."
"But," he wailed, "it wasn't as if they were her own children."
"Oh, how stupid you are! It was her own children she was thinking of."
IV
"So that was her reason," he said presently.
"Of course. Of course. It's the reason for the whole thing. It's the reason why, when a young man like you sees a young woman like me—I mean like the lady you thought I was—in an over-stimulating and tempestuous place like this, instead of taking off his silly hat to her, he should jam it well down over his silly ears and—quit!"