"That is your affair,—I have never wanted to know…. You seem to pride yourself on that. Good God! if you were more of a man,—if you were man enough to want anything, even sin,—I might love you!"
It was like a bolt of white fire from the clear heavens. Her husband gasped, scarcely comprehending the words.
"I don't believe you know what you are saying. Something has upset you…. Would you like me to love another woman? That's a pretty idea for a wife to advance!"
"I want you to—oh, what's the use of talking about it, Larry? You know what I mean—what I think, what I have felt—for a long time, even before little Elsa came. How can you want love with a woman who feels towards you as I do?"
"It is natural enough for a man who cares for his wife—"
"Too natural," Margaret laughed bitterly. "No, Larry; that's all over! You can do as you like,—I shan't ask questions. And we shall get on very well, like this."
"This comes of the rotten books you read!" he fumed.
"I do my own thinking."
"Suppose I don't want the freedom you hand out so readily?" he asked with an appealing note. "Suppose I still love you, my wife? have always loved you! You married me…. I've been unfortunate—"
"It isn't that, you know! It isn't the money—the fact that you would have beggared your mother—not quite that. It's everything—you! Why go into it? I don't blame you, Larry. But I know you now, and I don't love you—that is all."