“Clare--it's been like a fog all these weeks--we've never had it out, we've never talked about it, but you've been disappointed in me. You thought I was going to write great books and I haven't--and then your mother--and I--don't get on. And then I suppose I'm stupid in society--I can't talk a lot to any one who comes along as all you people can. I've been brought up differently and--and--I know you don't like to think about that either, and so I'll never bring my old friends into the house and I'll see that I'm not such a gawk at your parties--” He paused for a moment; she was looking down now and he couldn't see her eyes. He bent forward more closely--his arm caught her waist--his hand crushed hers-- She tried desperately to pull herself together to say something-- “No--there's nothing. Well, if there is--Of course I suppose it happens to all married people--” “What happens?” “Why, they find one another out a little. Things aren't quite as they thought they'd be. That must happen always.” “But tell me--tell me the things in me that have disappointed you and then I can alter--” “Well--it's a little as you say. You have been rather rude to Mother. And then--your quarrel--” “What! You mean with Cards!” “With--Jerry--yes. And then,” her voice was high and sharp now--her eyes avoided his--“I've always--been happy, until _I_ married. Things frighten me. You don't understand me, Peter, how easily I'm frightened--you never seemed to see that. Other people--know.” “I've been selfish--I--” “Yes,” she went on still in that high voice, “and you never consider me in little things. And you laugh at me as though I were stupid. I don't suppose it's all your fault. You were brought up--roughly. But you _are_ rough. You hurt me often. I can't bear,” her lip was trembling and she was nearly crying--“I can't bear being unhappy--” “My God!” cried Peter, “what a beast I am! What a brute I've been!” “Yes--and you never seemed to think that I minded poor little Stephen's death--the dear little thing--of course it hurt me dreadfully--and you never thought of _me_--” “It's all going to be different now. Love me, Clare--love me and it will all come back. And then if you'll only love me I'll be able to write the most wonderful books. I'll be famous all the world over--if you'll only love me, Clare darling--” He dropt on to his knees before her and looking up at her whispered--“Clare--darling, darling--you're all that I've got now--everything in the world. And in return I'll try to be everything to you. I'll spend my life in making you happy. I'll care for only one thing and that is to be your servant. Clare--Clare--” She gave a little protesting cry--“Peter, Peter--don't--I--I--can't--” and then in a shuddering whisper--“Peter--I'm not good enough--I don't love you now--I--can't--”