"Well, then, I'll answer you. There isn't much left of me; there'll be less left of my fortune before long. I've made a failure of everything, fortune, friendship, position, happiness. My wife and I are separated; it is club gossip, I believe. She will probably sue for divorce and get it. And I ask you, because I don't know, can any amends be made to—the person you mentioned—by my offering her the sort and condition of man I now am?"
"You've got to, haven't you?" asked Duane.
"Oh! Is that it? A sort of moral formality?"
"It's conventional; yes. It's expected."
"By whom?"
"All the mess that goes to make up this compost heap we call society.... I think she also would expect it."
Dysart nodded.
"If you could make her happy it would square a great many things, Dysart."
The other looked up: "You?"
"I—don't know. Yes, in many ways; in that way at all events—if you made her happy."