“Nonsense. He can’t make you go. You ought to divorce the little beast. I don’t call that a marriage. And anyway, one more scandal won’t matter much.”
“I’m afraid of him.”
“Has he any money of his own, or are you supporting him?”
“Oh, he has money of his own, but he’s gambled away most of it. He gambled away most of mine, too. I didn’t know how to stop it. Morton Freeman ought to have tied it up in some way, but you see he died so suddenly … that awful Titanic.…”
“What sort of a fellow was Freeman?”
“Oh, very nice, and very fond of me. But you don’t like foreigners.”
“I never said so. And besides, I don’t call Americans foreigners.”
“He stayed on the ship,” Connie went on. “He made me go. It was so brave of him. I wasn’t really in love with him. I’ve never really loved anybody but Petrovitch. But I was sorry.”
“Where is Petrovitch now?”
“In America, I think, but I’m not sure. He never writes to me.” She sighed.