"I remember, now, your consternation when you realised it," she said, smiling. "After all, Duane, if it is bound to happen, I don't mind it happening here.... Poor, lonely little Rosalie!... I'm depraved enough to be glad for her—if it is really to be so."
"I'm glad, too.... Only she ought to begin her action, I think. It's more prudent and better taste."
"You said once that you had a contempt for divorce."
"I never entertain the same opinion of anything two days in succession," he said, smiling. "When there is any one moral law that can justly cover every case which it is framed to govern, I'll be glad to remain more constant in my beliefs."
"Then you do believe in divorce?"
"To-day I happen to."
"Duane, is that your attitude toward everything?"
"Everything except you," he said cheerfully. "That is literally true. Even in my painting and in my liking for the work of others, I veer about like a weather-vane, never holding very long to one point of view."
"You're very frank about it."
"Why not?"