"He has been so good in letting me go," she resumed. "And here's a note I found on my dressing-table, addressed to you."
"Yes. He's not an unworthy fellow," said Jude, glancing at the note. "And I am ashamed of myself for hating him because he married you.
"According to the rule of women's whims, I suppose I ought to suddenly love him, because he has let me go so generously and unexpectedly," she answered, smiling. "But I am so cold, or devoid of gratitude, or so something, that even this generosity hasn't made me love him, or repent, or want to stay with him as his wife; although I do feel I like his large-mindedness, and respect him more than ever."
"It may not work so well for us as if he had been less kind, and you had run away against his will," murmured Jude.
"That I never would have done."
Jude's eyes rested musingly on her face. Then he suddenly kissed her, and was going to kiss her again. "No—only once now—please, Jude!"
"That's rather cruel," he answered, but acquiesced. "Such a strange thing has happened to me," Jude continued, after a silence. "Arabella has actually written to ask me to get a divorce from her—in kindness to her, she says. She wants to honestly and legally marry that man she has already married virtually, and begs me to enable her to do it."
"What have you done?"
"I have agreed. I thought at first I couldn't do it without getting her into trouble about that second marriage, and I don't want to injure her in any way. Perhaps she's no worse than I am, after all! But nobody knows about it over here, and I find it will not be a difficult proceeding at all. If she wants to start afresh, I have only too obvious reasons for not hindering her."
"Then you'll be free?"
