Norman turned away. He looked gloomily out of the window for a moment, and then faced his wife again.
"Louise," he said gravely, "if I have been hard and unsympathetic, I have not meant to be. Why can't we start all over again? You are more than all the rest of the world to me. I will give up whatever you object to, and you give up what I object to. That is a good way to begin." His eyes had a look of longing in them, but Mrs. Wentworth did not respond.
"You will insist on my giving up my friends," she said.
"Your friends? I do not insist on your giving up any friend on earth. Mrs. Nailor and her like are not your friends. They spend their time tearing to pieces the characters of others when you are present, and your character when you are absent. Wickersham is incapable of being a friend."
"You are always so unjust to him," said Mrs. Wentworth, warmly.
"I am not unjust to him. I have known him all my life, and I tell you he would sacrifice any one and every one to his pleasure."
Mrs. Wentworth began to defend him warmly, and so the quarrel ended worse than it had begun.