“Are you blaming me for our marriage? I never persuaded you into it against your will.”
“No. Nature persuaded me into it, and Nature made these soft, delicate primroses.” She touched the flowers at her breast. “Surely it seems strange that so much gentle beauty and sordid cruelty should go hand-in-hand?”
He raised his thick, heavy eyebrows. He was feeling better now. Perhaps, after all, he would go down to the club on the chance of seeing Mathews about that case on Tuesday.
“Nature has only one object in bringing men and women together,” he said slowly. Her words had reminded him of his father’s and mother’s grievance and hints. His father had mentioned it when he suggested giving up his seat in Parliament to him, and made it the text for a diatribe against the modern woman and her absent sense of duty. After all, his father was right. A man ought to have a son. “You know, Claudia, while we are speaking on this matter, my father and mother are very disappointed that——”
“Don’t!” she said sharply, the girlish, wistful look gone from her face. “How can you talk about that—now. Have you no sense of delicacy—of—of decency——?” She drew in her breath with a jerk. “Don’t ever speak again, please, of your parents’ disappointment. I know you have always considered them before me, but this is the limit.... You don’t love me—you never did love me. I will not bear children to a man who does not love me.”
He shrugged his shoulders and rose from the sofa. She had turned away from him, only her back was visible. The dress was cut in a low, V-shaped opening, and there were two pretty dimples that invited a man’s kisses. But her husband did not notice them, he had never noticed them, and he saw only the back of a neurotic, unreasonable woman. He was going towards the door when she stopped him.
“Gilbert, do you remember that afternoon at Wargrave, when I asked you if I came first.... I asked if you loved me a great deal.... Why did you lie to me? Your work, your ambition, have always come first, and after the first few months of our marriage, I have meant nothing to you.” She spoke quite calmly, with none of the heat and excitement she had shown on the night she had come back from the Rivingtons. “Gilbert, please answer a straight question. Why did you tell me that lie?”
“It wasn’t a lie. I meant it. Only you women are so exacting and——”
She slowly inclined her head.
“I see. Perhaps you weren’t aware at the time it was a lie. You never have analysed your emotions. You meant it—at the moment. Passion had got both of us by the throat. I loved you, but although I didn’t realize it, passion blinded my eyes to your real character and how unsuitable we were to one another. And passion urged you on to marry me, when you ought to have married a nice, tame woman who would have been content with occasional crumbs. Oh! why does Nature bring the wrong people together! Why! Why! Gilbert, I wish we had been lovers instead of husband and wife, then—then the mistake would not have been irrevocable.”