The man hesitated for a moment before replying to this question. At length he said, although he flushed scarlet over the confession:
"There have been several reasons. In spite of her variable moods and many faults, Anna is a handsome and accomplished woman. She entertains magnificently, and has made an elegant mistress for our establishment. We have been over the world together several times, and are known in many cities both in this country and abroad, consequently it would have occasioned no end of scandal if there had been a separation. Thus, though she has tried my patience sorely at times, we have perhaps, on the whole, got along as amicably as hundreds of other couples. Besides—ahem!—"
The man abruptly ceased, as if, unwittingly, he had been about to say something that had better be left unsaid.
"Well—besides what?" queried his listener.
"Doubtless you will think it rather a humiliating confession to make," said Gerald Goddard, with a crestfallen air, "but during the last few years I have lost a great deal of money in unfortunate speculation, so—I have been somewhat dependent upon Anna in a financial way."
"Ah! I understand," remarked Mrs. Stewart, her delicate nostrils dilating scornfully at this evidence of a weak, ease-loving nature, that would be content to lean upon a rich wife, rather than be up and doing for himself, and making his own way in the world. "Are you not engaged with your profession?"
"No; Anna has not been willing, for a long time, that I should paint for money."
"And so your talents are deteriorating for want of use."
The scorn in her tones stung him keenly, and he flushed to his temples.
"You do not appear to lack for the luxuries of life," he retorted, glancing about the elegant apartment, with a sullen air, but ignoring her thrust.