“Would you, if you were in her place, come back—would you?”
“I?” It was almost a gasp. “I’m not like Margery. I’ve counted pennies all my life.” A sudden flame. “But why do you bring me in?”
“Why? That’s true. I had no right. I apologize. To come back to Mrs. Randall. Do you still blame her?”
“No, I don’t believe I do. I ought to, I feel that; but I don’t. It’s tangled, tangled!”
“Yes. It’s the first symptom of divorce.”
The girl flashed him a sudden look.
“And you hate divorce. You just said so.”
“From the bottom of my soul. I meant it.”
Miss Gleason flashed a second look. Suddenly, unaccountably, she held the reins.
“What’s to be done then? Margery is as she is, we both know that; and—and Harry loves her, we both know that, too. What do you suggest?”