There!'
Edith said nothing, remembering he was still ill.
'Well,' he went on, 'now, he _hasn't_ run away from you. He's stayed
with you for three years; utterly incapable of appreciating you, as I
know he is, bothering you to death.'
'Oh, Aylmer!'
'Don't I know him? You're wasting and frittering yourself away for
nothing.'
'The children--'
'Don't you think I'd have looked after the children better than he?'
'Yes, I do, Aylmer. But he _is_ their father. They may keep him
straight.'
'I consider you're utterly wasted,' he said. 'Well! He's stuck to you,
apparently, for these last three years (as far as you know), and now I'm
going to ask you something entirely different, for the last time. When I
was dying, or thought I was, things showed themselves clearly enough, I
can tell you. And I made up my mind if I lived to see you, to say this.
Leave Bruce, with me!'
She stared at him.
'In six weeks, when he's tired of telling his friends at the club about
it, he'll make up his mind, I suppose, if you insist, or even without,
to divorce you. But do you suppose he'll keep the children? No, my dear
of course he won't. You'll never have to leave them.
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