"But even if you are, I am bound to tell you that adultery is not enough of itself as a ground for divorce."
"Not enough?"
"If you were a man it would be, but being a woman you must establish cruelty as well."
"Cruelty? Isn't it all cruelty?" I asked.
"In the human sense, yes; in the legal sense, no," answered the lawyer.
And then he proceeded to explain to me that in this country, unlike some others, before a woman could obtain a divorce from her husband she had to prove that he had not only been unfaithful to her, but that he had used violence to her, struck her in the face perhaps, threatened her or endangered her life or health.
"Your husband hasn't done that, has he? No? I thought not. After all he's a gentleman. Therefore there is only one other ground on which you could establish a right to divorce, namely desertion, and your husband is not likely to run away. In fact, he couldn't. It isn't to his interest. We've seen to all that—here," and smiling again, the lawyer patted the top of the lacquered box that bore my father's name.
I was dumbfounded. Even more degrading than the fetters whereby the Church bound me to my marriage were the terms on which the law would release me.
"But assuming that you could obtain a divorce," said the lawyer, "what good would it do you? You would have to relinquish your title."
"I care nothing about my title," I replied.