“These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. They leave them out of novels--these incompatibilities. Young people ignore them until they find themselves up against them. My wife doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand now. She despises me, I suppose.... We married, and for a time we were happy. She was fine and tender. I worshipped her and subdued myself.” He left off abruptly. “Do you understand what I am talking about? It’s no good if you don’t.” “I think so,” said Ann Veronica, and colored. “In fact, yes, I do.” “Do you think of these things--these matters--as belonging to our Higher Nature or our Lower?” “I don’t deal in Higher Things, I tell you,” said Ann Veronica, “or Lower, for the matter of that. I don’t classify.” She hesitated. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me.” “That’s the comfort of you. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood. Don’t think it was anything better than fever--or a bit beautiful. It wasn’t. Quite soon, after we were married--it was just within a year--I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself.... It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us. Like stealing. We dressed it in a little music.... I want you to understand clearly that I was indebted to the man in many small ways. I was mean to him.... It was the gratification of an immense necessity. We were two people with a craving. We felt like thieves. We WERE thieves.... We LIKED each other well enough. Well, my friend found us out, and would give no quarter. He divorced her. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it.” “My wife was astounded--wounded beyond measure. She thought me--filthy. All her pride raged at me. One particularly humiliating thing came out--humiliating for me. There was a second co-respondent. I hadn’t heard of him before the trial. I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating. There’s no logic in these things. It was.” “Poor you!” said Ann Veronica. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. She had money of her own--much more than I have--and there was no need to squabble about that. She has given herself up to social work.” “Well--”