She paused and then went on with sudden passion, “You’ve accused me of lying to you. It’s you who have lied! Whose fault is it if I didn’t mean what I said—that time? You’ve never been honest with me. You were never willing to face the future. I tried to talk with you, but you wouldn’t. You made me feel that I was wrong. And so I tried to believe differently about our marriage. And when the real truth came out—yes, the truth!—I wasn’t prepared to meet it. I was a coward.—Perhaps I’m a coward still. I don’t know. But I know this—I’m not willing to do what you say you want me to do—bind you, tame you, keep you. No! I won’t be ... _a wife_.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LIX. Unanswered Questions 1 FELIX smiled at her. “Nor even a woman, Rose-Ann?” “If that’s what being a woman is, no. But you’re mistaken. A woman can be something else besides that.” “So it seems. I always had the notion that they understood life better than I did. But I’m mistaken, I guess.” “Would you like to be _my_ keeper?” she flashed out. “Would _you_ want to guard and watch after me, and keep me in the paths I should go in?” He looked at her intently. “So that—that is what you want?” he hazarded. For a moment that seemed to him the truth hidden behind all Rose-Ann’s evasions. But before he had time to read confirmation in her startled eyes, the waiter came up. “Is there anything else?—You don’t like the stew today?” He stood there, a statue of injured pride, looking at the neglected dish. “It’s a noble stew,” said Felix. “Nothing wrong with the stew. Bring our coffee.” “Yes, sir. Shall I take away the stew?” “Please.” He bore it away with a mournful air. 2 Rose-Ann was sitting back in her chair with the air of the discussion having become too absurd to go on with. Felix looked inquiry. “How little we know each other after all,” she said. “Meaning?” “Have you forgotten what you said? I hope so.... Felix, if I wanted those things from my lover ... to be kept and guarded ... would I have chosen _you_?” She dealt the blow lightly, looking away from him. He paled a little. “Perhaps not,” he said sullenly. And then—“Forgive me for being ridiculous.” “I only meant,” she said, still looking away, “that I don’t want to spoil you. I like you as you are.... And if you insist upon being taught the cave-man virtues, why you will have to get some other woman to teach them to you. I decline the office.” “Very well,” he said, “I sha’n’t ask you again.” 3 “It’s just as well the way it has turned out,” she said. “We might have made ourselves miserable trying to please each other. Now we can be ourselves.” “And what is your notion of that?” “For me—freedom.” He smiled incredulously, scornfully.