"No. That comes long after the mischief's done. The trouble between Basil and me is simply this. Basil wants me to be a mother to him and I can't. People are simply sickening about mothers. I'm a woman first and a mother afterwards. Being a mother grows out of being a woman. . . . Basil wants me to be a work of art in theory and a mother in practice. I simply couldn't do it. . . . It's my own fault. I knew Basil was like that before I married him. I had a sort of blind moment when I thought I could change him. You can't change people. I can't change myself. . . . I ought to have left him long ago, but Basil's the sort of man you can't leave. He clings. He plays on your nerves and makes you frightened. He looks at you with his big eyes and seems so helpless that you're afraid to leave him, and you don't like hurting him. He simply _makes_ you be a mother to him and then takes advantage of it, and things go from bad to worse. . . . London seemed to frighten him, took away all his courage and his ambition. London's too big for him. He wants to be at the top of the tree all at once, simply because he's afraid of the climb. . . . We should have done better to stay at home." "That wouldn't have made any difference." "No, I suppose not. I am I and Basil is Basil and that's the whole story, and it's just like a man of that sort to turn round and try to kill you when you won't let him cling to you any longer." Minna's voice became venomous. "Grievances again!" thought Serge, and he saw then how impossible was his position. He could not tell Minna of Basil's willingness to take her back upon conditions. Either of them or both must surrender their grievances if anything were to be done. That seemed to be extremely improbable. "You will not go back, then?" "I'm quite willing to go back, if Basil----" More conditions! Oh, the folly of insistence upon rights! . . . Serge dropped the subject, accepted the inevitable and asked: "Then it is to go on?" "That rests with Basil." "If he does not withdraw the petition I suppose you will not defend." "I shall defend my honour if I have to spend my last penny on it. I'm not going to have mud thrown at me and say 'Thank you' for it. I don't trust Basil. He's a vindictive little beast. He's sure to say our marriage was happy. . . . Besides, I must think of the children." "I wish you would." "I do. Their mother's honour is precious to them." "Personally," said Serge, "I would sell my honour for twopence." "Oh! you! . . . But then you don't care what anybody thinks of you." "Not a straw."