“That you do not seem to be happy either.” “How in the devil’s name can you expect me to be happy in this city? Do you think it is pleasant to have no alternative to the society of American men except that of a sulky woman?” “Sholto!” said Marian, rising quickly, and looking at him in surprise. “Spare me these airs,” he said, coldly. “You will have to accustom yourself to hear the truth occasionally.” She sat down again. “I am not giving myself airs,” she said, earnestly. “I am astonished. Have I really been sulky?” “You have been in the sulks for days past: and you are in them at this moment.” “There is some misunderstanding between us then; for you have seemed to me quite cross and out of sorts for the last week; and I thought you were out of temper when you came in just now.” “That is rather an old-fashioned retort.” “Sholto: I do not know whether you intend it or not; but you are speaking very slightingly to me.” He muttered something, and walked across the room and back. “I am quite clear on one point at least,” he said. “It was not for this sort of thing that I crossed the Atlantic with you; and you had bettor make our relations more agreeable if you wish me to make them permanent.” “You to make them permanent? I do not understand.” “I shall not shrink from explaining myself. If your husband’s suit is undefended, he will obtain a decree which will leave you a single woman in six months. Now, whatever you may think to the contrary, there is not a club in London that would hold me in any way bound to marry you after the manner in which you have behaved. Let me remind you that your future position depends on your present conduct. You have apparently forgotten it.” She looked at him; and he went back to the window. “My husband’s suit cannot be defended,” she said. “Doubtless you will act according to the dictates of the London clubs.” “I do not say so,” he said, turning angrily. “I shall act according to the dictates of my own common sense. And do not be too sure that the petition will be unopposed. The law recognizes the plea of connivance.” “But it would be a false plea,” said Marian, raising her voice. “I shall not discuss that with you. Whether your husband was blind, or merely kept his eyes shut will not be decided by us. You have been warned. We will drop the subject now, if you please.” “Do you suppose,” said Marian, with a bright color in her cheeks, “that after what you have said, anything could induce me to marry you?” He was startled, and remained for a moment motionless. Then he said, in his usual cold tone, “As you please. You may think better of it. I will leave you for the present. When we meet again, you will be calmer.” “Yes,” she said. “Good-bye.” Without answering, he changed his coat for a silk jacket, transferred his cigar-case to a pocket in it, and went out. When he had passed the threshold, he hesitated, and returned. “Why do you say good-bye?” he said, after clearing his throat uneasily.