'I've no fault to find
with you either as a wife. But I'm not happy here. I'm miserable. I
implore you not to make a scene. Don't oppose me; forgive me--on account
of my health. This will save my life.'
If he only knew how little she wished to oppose him! She stood up.
'Bruce, you shall do exactly as you like!'
He looked enchanted, relieved.
'I hope you will be happy and well, and I shall try to be. May I just
ask--is Madame Frabelle going to America?'
'Edith, I will not deny it. We mean to throw in our lot together! Look
out! You'll have the inkstand over!' She had moved near the
writing-table.
Edith stopped herself from a hysterical laugh.
'You won't mind if I go down to the club for an hour?'
'Certainly not.'
'And, Edith--say what you can to my mother, and comfort her. Tell her
it's to save my going off my head, or committing suicide. Will you
say that?'
'I will,' she replied.
Five minutes later the door banged. Bruce had gone to the club. He
hadn't told her he had taken a room there, and the same evening he sent
up for his luggage. He did not wish to see Edith again.
Just before he went out, as if casually for an hour at the club, Edith
had said:
'Would you like to come and see Dilly asleep?'
It had occurred to her that at least he had been frank and honest, and
for that he deserved to see Dilly again.
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