“That is absurd, Heloise.”
“It is not absurd. Oh, Anthony, Anthony, will you ever come down out of the clouds! Do you really suppose that I will be free just because you say so—off there in Paris, knowing every moment of the day and night that nothing on earth but your generosity keeps me alive—that every step of my growth will be due to you—that—”
“Stop, dear! You must not—”
“—that I am not even paying my way? Oh, Anthony, bless your dear heart, sometimes, in thinking about you, I laugh—and sometimes I cry. Can't you see that I shall not move a mile toward Paris of my own desire, that I go only because you tell me to—yes, because you order me to? Can't you see that this has been your idea all along, not mine—that you have made every decision, down to the minutest detail of my poor life.... Freedom? Why, Anthony dear, I'm a million miles from freedom and traveling the other way! I don't want that kind of freedom. I want to work with you—right by your side. I want to earn some real freedom, the right kind. I want to—yes, to make good with you, Anthony.... Oh, I've tried to be good. I've tried to accept your judgment in everything. My life is yours anyway, so there was no harm in that. I love you as I never knew a woman could love a man. I worship you.... You must not stop me, Anthony!—Even so, I would give you up.
“If it was best for you. That is all I have asked myself—What would be best for you? And then you've ordered me about so, Anthony, and what on earth could I say. I had to plan as you told me to plan. I ought not to be saying this now. I ought to be going away, very quietly, saying—'Yes, Anthony. I will go, Anthony.' But now you tell me that in your heart you want me to stay. And I can see that it is true. I know you want me.... And yet, Anthony, you have the hardihood, you assume the wisdom, to decide for us both—squarely against the dictates of both our hearts. You assume not only to decide for us now—you are deciding what the future would be if we should stay together. And that is—why, that is silly, Anthony. There never was a man and woman who needed each other more than you and I need each other.” Her voice dropped, and softened. “I don't think a man and woman ever loved more wonderfully, Anthony. We are n't children. We have suffered. And I think we know.... You see, dear, I have come to distrust your judgment about some very human things. Every marriage is a risk. People seldom marry who know each other as you and I do, who have tested each other.... Oh, I've tried so hard to accept your judgment. I kept waking up last night, and it all raced through and through my head; and still I felt I must do as you say.”
My world was falling about me.
“But your work, child,” I cried. “All that stands just as it stood before, when we—well, when I—made the plans. The problem is still there. We can't escape that, not even by the easy process of following our hearts.”
She had dropped her eyes. She was smiling.
“There is n't any problem, Anthony,” she said.
“Oh, come, Heloise—”