I suppose a good wife ought to
invent excuses for her husband--ought to throw herself into the breach;
is n't that what they call it? But I am afraid I am not a good wife.
Do you think I am a good wife, Mr. Longueville? You once stayed three
months with us, and you had a chance to see. I don't ask you that
seriously, because you never tell the truth. I always do; so I will
say I am not a good wife. And then the breach is too big, and I am too
little. Oh, I am too little, Mrs. Vivian; I know I am too little. I am
the smallest woman living; Gordon can scarcely see me with a microscope,
and I believe he has the most powerful one in America. He is going to
get another here; that is one of the things he came abroad for; perhaps
it will do better. I do tell the truth, don't I, Mrs. Vivian? I have
that merit, if I have n't any other. You once told me so at Baden; you
said you could say one thing for me, at any rate--that I did n't tell
fibs. You were very nice to me at Baden," Blanche went on, with her
little intent smile, laying her hand in that of her hostess. "You see,
I have never forgotten it. So, to keep up my reputation, I must tell the
truth about Gordon. He simply said he would n't come--voila! He gave no
reason and he did n't send you any pretty message.
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