"It's only that I suffer in my self-respect--a little," Mrs. Travis continued. "Of course, this is no reason for taking such a step, except to those who have suffered in the same way. Perhaps you would like to stop the carriage and let me leave you?" "Your suffering makes you unjust to me," replied Cecily, much embarrassed by this strange impulsiveness. "Indeed I sympathize with you. I think it quite possible that you are behaving most rightly." "You don't maintain, then, that it is a wife's duty to bear every indignity from her husband?" "Surely not. On the contrary, I think there are some indignities which no wife _ought_ to bear." "I'm glad to hear that. I had a feeling that you would think in this way, and that's why I wanted to talk to you. Of course you have only the evidence of my word for believing me." "I can see that you are very unhappy, and the cause you name is quite sufficient." "In one respect, I am very lucky. I have a little money of my own, and that enables me to go and live by myself. Most women haven't this resource: many are compelled to live in degradation only for want of it. I should like to see how many homes would be broken up, if all women were suddenly made independent in the same way that I am. How I should enjoy that! I hate the very word 'marriage'!" Cecily averted her face, and said nothing. After a pause, her companion continued in a calm voice: "You can't sympathize with that, I know. And you are comparing my position with your own." No answer was possible, for Mrs. Travis had spoken the truth. "In the first year of my marriage, I used to do the same whenever I heard of any woman who was miserable with her husband." "Is there no possibility of winning back your husband?" Cecily asked, in a veiled voice. "Winning him back? Oh, he is affectionate enough. But you mean winning him back to faithfulness. My husband happens to be the average man, and the average man isn't a pleasant person to talk about, in this respect." "Are you not too general in your condemnation, Mrs. Travis?" "I am content you should think so. You are very young still, and there's no good in making the world ugly for you as long as it can seem rosy." "Please don't use that word," said Cecily, with emphasis. It annoyed her to be treated as immature in mind. "I am the last person to take rosy views of life. But there is something between the distrust to which you are driven by misery and the optimism of foolish people." "We won't argue about it. Every woman must take life as she finds it. To me it is a hateful weariness. I hope I mayn't have much of it still before me; what there is, I will live in independence. You know Mrs. Calder?" "Yes." "Her position is the same as mine has been, but she has more philosophy; she lets things take their course, just turning her eyes away." "That is ignoble, hateful!" exclaimed Cecily.