She sat fully dressed, in her chair beside the
window, the black irises almost crowding out the gray in her eyes, her
hands tightening and tightening against that removal of collar. Finally
one half of it flew open, and on that tremendous trifle Lilly spoke.
"Albert."
"Yes?"
"Let me go!"
"Huh?"
"It's wrong. I've made a mistake. I don't want to be married."
For a full second he held that pose at his collar button, his entire
being seeming to suspend a beat.
"What say?" not exactly doubting, but wanting to corroborate his senses.
She was amazed at her ability to reply.
"I said I have made a terrible mistake. I can't stand being married to
you."
He came toward her with the open side of his collar jerking like an old
door on its hinges.
"Now lookahere," he said, rather roughly for him; "it's all right for a
woman to have her whims once in a while, but there are limits. I've been
as considerate with you as I know how to be. A darn sight more than many
a man with his woman."
"I'm not that!" she cried, springing to her feet.
"What?"
"That! Your--that!"
"Call it what you want," he said, "all I know is that you're my wife and
I married you to settle down to a decent, self-respecting home life and
that a sensible woman leaves her whims behind her.
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