“And that if he goes on as he is now going he will be penniless?”
“Not impossible,” said Lovibond, “provided the mad fit last long enough.”
“Is remonstrance quite useless, Mr. Lovibond?”
“Quite, Mrs. Quiggin.”
The great slow eyes began to fill, and Lovibond’s gaze to seek the laces of his boots.
“It is sorrow enough to me, Mr. Lovibond, that my husband and I have quarreled and parted, but it will be the worst grief of all if some day I should have to think that I came into his life to wreck it.”
“Don’t blame yourself for that, Mrs. Quiggin. It will be his own fault if he ruins himself.”
“You are very good, Mr. Lovi-bond.”
“Your husband will never blame you either.”
“That will hardly reconcile me to his misfortunes.”