“Some of them are quite able to take care of themselves,” said Atherton. “I've known striking instances of the kind. How do you know but the object of your superfluous pity was cheerful because fate had delivered her husband, bound forever, into her hand, through this little escapade of his?” “Isn't that rather a coarse suggestion?” asked Halleck. “Very likely. I suggest it; I don't assert it. But I fancy that wives sometimes like a permanent grievance that is always at hand, no matter what the mere passing occasion of the particular disagreement is. It seems to me that I have detected obscure appeals to such a weapon in domestic interviews at which I've assisted in the way of business.” “Don't, Atherton!” cried Halleck. “Don't how? In this particular case, or in regard to wives generally. We can't do women a greater injustice than not to account for a vast deal of human nature in them. You may be sure that things haven't come to the present pass with those people without blame on both sides.” “Oh, do you defend a man for such beastliness, by that stale old plea of blame on both sides?” demanded Halleck, indignantly. “No; but I should like to know what she had said or done to provoke it, before I excused her altogether.” “You would! Imagine the case reversed.” “It isn't imaginable.” “You think there is a special code of morals for women,--sins and shames for them that are no sins and shames for us!” “No, I don't think that! I merely suggest that you don't idealize the victim in this instance. I dare say she hasn't suffered half as much as you have. Remember that she's a person of commonplace traditions, and probably took a simple view of the matter, and let it go as something that could not be helped.” “No, that would not do, either,” said Halleck. “You're hard to please. Suppose we imagine her proud enough to face you down on the fact, for his sake; too proud to revenge her disgrace on you--” “Oh, you come back to your old plea of magnanimity! Atherton, it makes me sick at heart to think of that poor creature. That look of hers haunts me! I can't get rid of it!” Atherton sat considering his friend with a curious smile. “Well, I'm sorry this has happened to _you_, Halleck.” “Oh, why do you say that to me?” demanded Halleck, impatiently. “Am I a nervous woman, that I must be kept from unpleasant sights and disagreeable experiences? If there's anything of the man about me, you insult it! Why not be a little sorry for _her_?” “I'm sorry enough for her; but I suspect that, so far, you have been the principal sufferer. She's simply accepted the fact, and survived it.” “So much the worse, so much the worse!” groaned Halleck. “She'd better have died!” “Well, perhaps. I dare say she thinks it will never happen again, and has dismissed the subject; while you've had it happening ever since, whenever you've thought of her.”