“About her theories, you mean?”
“Or her practices. A woman seldom has a theory without a concrete example to illustrate it. Philippa has a concrete example, of course?”
“Oh, yes, one of the husbands who comes to be ennobled.”
“Isn’t his wife suited to the task?”
“Apparently not. He is a great genius, warped, stifled, suffocated by the atmosphere of domesticity.”
“Poor man,” said Cecily.
“The wife’s crime, as far as I can understand,” pursued Mrs. Summers, “is her existence, and from Philippa’s point of view I admit it’s enough. No doubt when a man’s tired of his wife it is awfully annoying and stultifying to his genius. But somehow, while Philippa talked, I felt rather sorry for the poor little woman whose mind is so ill-balanced that she can’t turn off her emotions to order.”
“Is the man in love with Philippa, do you think?”
“Well, as he generally spends several hours a day with her, I should say he was—speaking of the human man as I know him.”
“And Philippa?” asked Cecily.