“It’s just a part of the same old hypocrisy of keeping up appearances. You know you don’t care for flowers in themselves, except as they help to make a show. You want to impress our guests. You want to keep up the old illusion of the woman’s hand in the home. The woman’s touch. Isn’t that it?”
“Yes, I do want to keep up that illusion,” said Herbert; “and by God, I find it very hard! You say you want an object in life. Isn’t your husband an object?”
Clare looked at him with a queer, pitiful smile.
“Yes, he is,” she said slowly.
“Well, what more do you want?”
“Lots more. A woman’s life is not centered for ever in one man.”
“It ought to be,” said Herbert. “If you had any religious principles——”
“Oh,” said Clare sharply, “but you object to my religion!”
“Well, of course I mean in moderation.”
“You have starved me, Herbert, and oh, I am so hungry!”