“‘It seems to have been a bit of a mistake,’ says he, ’as things have turned out.’

“’It would have been a mistake, and more than a bit of a one in any case,’ answers she.

“‘I’m glad you agree with me,’ says he; ‘there’ll be no need to quarrel.’

“‘I’ve always tried to agree with you,’ says she.  ’We’ve never quarrelled yet, and that ought to be sufficient proof to you that we never shall.’

“‘It’s a mistake that can be rectified,’ says he, ’if you are sensible, and that without any harm to anyone.’

“‘Oh!’ says she, ‘it must be a new sort of mistake, that kind.’

“‘We’re not fitted for one another,’ says he.

“‘Out with it,’ says she.  ’Don’t you be afraid of my feelings; they are well under control, as I think I can fairly say by this time.’

“‘With a man in your own station of life,’ says he, ‘you’d be happier.’

“‘There’s many a man I might have been happier with,’ replies she.  ’That ain’t the thing to be discussed, seeing as I’ve got you.’

“‘You might get rid of me,’ says he.

“‘You mean you might get rid of me,’ she answers.

“‘It comes to the same thing,’ he says.

“‘No, it don’t,’ she replies, ’nor anything like it.  I shouldn’t have got rid of you for my pleasure, and I’m not going to do it for yours.  You can live like a decent man, and I’ll go on putting up with you; or you can live like a fool, and I shan’t stand in your way.  But you can’t do both, and I’m not going to help you try.’

“Well, he argued with her, and he tried the coaxing dodge, and he tried the bullying dodge, but it didn’t work, neither of it.

“‘I’ve done my duty by you,’ says she, ’so far as I’ve been able, and that I’ll go on doing or not, just as you please; but I don’t do more.’

“‘We can’t go on living like this,’ says he, ’and it isn’t fair to ask me to.  You’re hammering my prospects.’

“‘I don’t want to do that,’ says she.  ’You take your proper position in society, whatever that may be, and I’ll take mine.  I’ll be glad enough to get back to it, you may rest assured.’

“‘What do you mean?’ says he.

“‘It’s simple enough,’ she answers.  ’I was earning my living before I married you, and I can earn it again.  You go your way, I go mine.’

“It didn’t satisfy him; but there was nothing else to be done, and there was no moving her now in any other direction whatever, even had he wanted to.  He offered her anything in the way of money—­he wasn’t a mean chap,—­but she wouldn’t touch a penny.  She had kept her old clothes—­I’m not sure that some idea of needing them hadn’t always been in her head,—­applied for a place under her former manager, who was then bossing a hotel in Kensington, and got it.  And there was an end of high life so far as she was concerned.