isn't a wife to you. She doesn't love you. Why can't you tell her about us and have her divorce you?"
"Oh, she wouldn't."
"How do you know she wouldn't?"
"I know Helen."
"Oh, horse-radish. You can't know in advance what she'd say if you asked her. And what can she do to you if she refuses? There's no harm in asking."
"Say, I know her almost as long as you've been on earth. I know what she'd do if I asked her."
"What would she do?"
"She'd say no."
"Well, if that's all she can do it's worth trying, isn't it?"
"What's the use when I know she'll say no?"
"You mean she'll be satisfied to stay married to you knowing you're living with another woman?"
"Sure. She hasn't let me come near her in an age anyhow. So it won't make any difference."
A sudden silence came down over the little cream-colored room. Lillian sat puffing on a new cigarette. Her face wore an angry, defiant look. Even her hair stood out in a warlike flare. Hubert had long since thrown his cigarette on a tray where it lay smoking and smelling. Hubert's expression was one of deepest solemnity. Cigarettes always made him a little ill.
Lillian cast a glance at him. Was he thinking it over? If he was, he evidently thought that anywhere within a week or two would be time enough to announce his decision. He gave no sign of thinking swiftly. She sighed and resorted then to a coward's plea.
