“Oh, but need everybody do something pompous and heavy like justifying their existence, or accepting a responsibility, or--or carrying an unsmirched reputation? Can’t just one here and there--me, for instance--run along lightly, as though I left no footprint? As though I didn’t count? It’s so tiring to count. And to be sure of seeing the same people every day, and the same set of habits ... the same old standards ... same old places. You stick on because you love some one, or because of health, or because you lack courage. And words like outlaw and pirate and solitude are not for you ... not for you ... you try not to hear them. But I don’t love any one now, thank God! and I’m strong as the wind, and not afraid of anything except to be crowded.” “Claustrophobia ...” murmured the up-to-date Louis. She had never heard the word: “Oh, I won’t pretend any more that it’s a sacrifice for me to run away; it isn’t; it’s escape--and not very clever of you to have discovered that! But as it happens, I can be generous to the girl in the room, and yet in the same breath win back the room for myself. I must apologize for dragging you in as a dummy, Louis,” with a whimsical drop from exultation; “but I must at least pretend to elope in more tangible and more sinister company than just my own. They haven’t enough imagination in the Divorce Courts to accept me as the co-respondent as well as the defendant.” “You can hardly expect it of them, my dear.” In an absent fashion the man paced the room. He had forgotten his own claims and injury; intent on this would-be Undine, who was defying the very existence of her human soul.... “You talk of being generous to the girl in the room,” he broke out, abruptly. “What about your husband? Is he worth your gift?” “No,” frankly. “That’s why I left him out. Doug--oh, he’s noisy and cheap romantic, and jumps over tea-tables; that’s not the harm in him. But he can’t be faithful. And that goes as deep as _he_ goes. And so he grabs your lonely dreams--and gives back nothing.” “And so you grab the girl’s lonely dreams, and give her--Doug. You, who have tried him, and found out what he does. You can’t coolly abandon your own mistake without working it out to the end.” “Don’t--be quiet--I won’t hear....” Ursula’s clenched hands were pushed out as though in fight against his argument; but her eyes, scared and very light round the dilated pupils, were as though suddenly woken from a spell. “I’m going,” she muttered; but he caught her by the wrists and continued ruthlessly: “In a few years hence, Christine will go through all the torture you’ve been through. Leave her the room with the white walls--and she’ll be luxuriantly and youthfully sorrowful over her lost hero--and forget him. You can’t safeguard the girl any other way than by remaining Doug’s wife yourself.” “Why should I safeguard her?” cried Ursula. “Why should you have preserved Hal from damage, nine years ago? You had to, that’s all.”