"You mean that if any of them had anything intimate to remember they'd never remain indifferent?"
"Well—yes."
"They'd either hate you or remember you with a certain tenderness."
"Is that what happens?" he asked, amused.
"I think so," she said thoughtfully.... "As for what you said, you are right, Duane; I am adrift.... You—or a man like you could easily board me—take me in tow. I'm quite sure that something about me signals a pilot; and that keen eyes and bitter tongues have noted it. And I don't care. Nor do I know yet what my capabilities for evil are.... Do you care to—find out?"
"It wouldn't be a square deal to you, Rosalie."
"And—if I don't care whether it's a square deal or not?"
"Why, dear," he said, covering her nervous, pretty hand with both of his, "I'd break your heart in a week."
He laughed, dropped her fingers, stepped back to the door, and, laying his hand on the knob, said evenly:
"That husband of yours is not the sort of man I particularly take to, but I believe he's about the average if you'd care to make him so."