"He says it’s the curse of civilization," said Stephanie, "and the invention of meddlesome and superstitious imbeciles. He says that the impulse toward procreation is mechanical and involuntary, and ought to be considered so without further personal responsibility; and that the State should nourish and educate whatever children were worth saving to replenish the waste, and put the others out of the way." "Harry," remarked Helen, "talks for talking’s sake very often." "He’s quite serious. His ideas are revolting. Never have I known a man who is so savagely an iconoclast as Harry Belter." Helen smiled. "Harry is a talker, dear. He doesn’t believe a word of it. Harry Belter is, by nature, a fat, happy, witty, clever and very sentimental young man who also is so overwhelmingly selfish that anything which happens to annoy him he considers a cataclysmic catastrophe involving the entire civilized world in ruin!" "What!" "Do you wish to know what really is the matter with Harry Belter? Shall I tell you what actually has inspired this noisy iconoclast and moral anarchist with the urge for talking?" "I’d like to know." "I’ll tell you. Three years ago he married a child of seventeen and started to mould her to suit himself. The only trouble was that she had a mind. She knew what she wanted to do and to be. She could not understand why this was incompatible with being his wife, especially as he had won her by his loudly reiterated advocation of personal liberty and the fundamental necessity for the development of individualism." "How do you know this?" "She told me." "When?" "Three years ago." "Who is she, Helen?" Helen answered pleasantly, looking into the curious grey eyes: "Her name, on the stage, is Marie Cliff. I have known her a long while and I am very fond of her." Stephanie, scarlet, winced under her faintly humourous smile. "They are divorced, then," she managed to say. "No." "Why not?" "She has never given him any cause," said Helen, slowly. "No woman, of her own knowledge, can truly say one word against her character; nor can any man. She merely revolted at the tyranny he attempted, in the guise of affection, of course. She refused to be deprived of the liberty to think and act as she chose. She rejected the worn-out conventions with which he attempted to chain her—this apostle of personal freedom. She cared for her profession—he married her when she was on the stage—and she resolutely insisted on her liberty to continue it. "The result was a family smash—her return to the stage. And since then she has refused to accept a penny from him and has supported herself by her profession, and, sometimes, by posing for artists. "And that is the real story of Harry Belter and Marie Cliff. So you can believe as much as you choose of his views on matrimony." After a flushed and painful silence, Stephanie said: "Do you believe this to be true?"