“No; you could not. You’d have to play the game as other women do. You would not do that. You--your whole mind is against the idea--you would not adjust yourself. You would not even try to adjust yourself to the world as it is. You want to make one yourself, six hundred feet long and seven hundred feet wide with this house in the middle of it. You have done it. Look at it,” he exclaimed, with a glance that swept this room like a conflagration. This was the first time she had suspected that the parlor was not furnished according to his liking. She was that simple, and he had been that patient. “You have created a place to live in where nobody can live except as you do,” he went on. He took no notice of the fact that she sat with one hand on her breast, staring at him with a look of mortal pain. “Well, I will be more considerate of you than you can be of me, Helen,” he began again. “We will drop the idea of going to New York. You like this place. I might be contented here myself, if I had nothing to do except keep it. But I have my business, a man’s name and reputation to make. I will stay here when my affairs don’t require me to be somewhere else. You understand,” giving her an eye thrust. “Yes,” she answered, meeting this thrust steadily. She was dying to her happiness, not without reproach, but without fear. He crossed his legs and swung his foot after this deed. He did not tell her that Shippen had offered him a partnership in a big business the night before. In view of her unreasonable prejudice against Shippen, this information would only have furnished her with stronger objections to his plans. The point was that she had failed him as a helpmate in the career he had chosen. He purposed to alter his course accordingly. He would do the square thing by her. She was his wife. He had that affection for her; but she should not block his way. He meant to get on with her or--without her. Other men did. He knew successful men in New York, whose wives spent half their time in Europe or somewhere else. He supposed he might do better than that. The bank in Shannon would require a good deal of his time. He would come home occasionally. He must spend a few days out of every month there. This was the end. Helen sensed it. She saw his side of the situation. She had failed her husband. She had been obliged to do so. He had never expressed the least regret because she had not borne children, but she knew that if they had had children, this would have made all the difference. She supposed she herself might have been a different sort of woman if she could have been a mother. Her influence as a wife had never reached beyond the door of their home. Now she had failed him at this upward turn in his career.