“Not a word of explanation or regret. Don’t you think it’s inhuman?” “It’s a very strange letter under the circumstances,” I replied. “There’s only one explanation, and that is that he’s not himself. I don’t know who this woman is who’s got hold of him, but she’s made him into another man. It’s evidently been going on a long time.” “What makes you think that?” “Fred found that out. My husband said he went to the club three or four nights a week to play bridge. Fred knows one of the members, and said something about Charles being a great bridge-player. The man was surprised. He said he’d never even seen Charles in the card-room. It’s quite clear now that when I thought Charles was at his club he was with her.” I was silent for a moment. Then I thought of the children. “It must have been difficult to explain to Robert,” I said. “Oh, I never said a word to either of them. You see, we only came up to town the day before they had to go back to school. I had the presence of mind to say that their father had been called away on business.” It could not have been very easy to be bright and careless with that sudden secret in her heart, nor to give her attention to all the things that needed doing to get her children comfortably packed off. Mrs. Strickland’s voice broke again. “And what is to happen to them, poor darlings? How are we going to live?” She struggled for self-control, and I saw her hands clench and unclench spasmodically. It was dreadfully painful. “Of course I’ll go over to Paris if you think I can do any good, but you must tell me exactly what you want me to do.” “I want him to come back.” “I understood from Colonel MacAndrew that you’d made up your mind to divorce him.” “I’ll never divorce him,” she answered with a sudden violence. “Tell him that from me. He’ll never be able to marry that woman. I’m as obstinate as he is, and I’ll never divorce him. I have to think of my children.” I think she added this to explain her attitude to me, but I thought it was due to a very natural jealousy rather than to maternal solicitude. “Are you in love with him still?” “I don’t know. I want him to come back. If he’ll do that we’ll let bygones be bygones. After all, we’ve been married for seventeen years. I’m a broadminded woman. I wouldn’t have minded what he did as long as I knew nothing about it. He must know that his infatuation won’t last. If he’ll come back now everything can be smoothed over, and no one will know anything about it.” It chilled me a little that Mrs. Strickland should be concerned with gossip, for I did not know then how great a part is played in women’s life by the opinion of others. It throws a shadow of insincerity over their most deeply felt emotions.