She came forward and stood looking at him.
"I've been thinking," she said, "that I can do you no kinder service than to destroy those papers and let you go home."
For a moment he thought she was joking, then something in her expression changed his opinion and he took a step forward, eyes fixed on her face.
"Yes," he said, "it would be the kindest thing you can do for me. Shall I tell you why? It's because I'm hopelessly near-sighted. I wear glasses when I'm alone in my study, where nobody can see me."
"What in the world has that to do with my leaving you?" she asked, colouring up.
"Suffragettes would never marry a near-sighted man, would they?"
"They ought not to."
"You wouldn't, would you?"
"Why do you ask—such a thing?"
"I want to know."