Estelle Monks, piqued at this answer which precluded argument, rose stiffly and went out. "Why did you say that?" asked Dodo reproachfully, yet not displeased to be left alone in the tête-à-tête which he usually avoided. He was in a serious mood, and because he wished to be honest in his own mind, he answered warily: "She is too fine a type. I'd hate to see her make a mistake!" He was thinking how much of what Estelle Monks had said applied to his own marriage. What a mockery it was, and what right had two human beings who were driven apart by every personal antipathy--physical, mental and spiritual--to go on, bound by a convention, preventing each other from seeking happiness elsewhere? And, remembering her attack on marriage as the slavery of woman, he thought bitterly that she had expressed only half the truth. He was, indeed, neither married nor a free man, checked in every impulse, denied at every turn. "What are you frowning about?" said Dodo. He answered hastily in that language which, as has been said, was given us to conceal our thoughts: "I was wondering how much she had affected you!" "Not the least!" said Dodo, adding impulsively: "And yet, that is just what I feel!" "You, Dodo?" he said anxiously. She went to him with a sudden enthusiasm, taking his hands, perhaps subconsciously divining the bitter personal reflection that had been going on in his mind, feeling the moment to be propitious. "Ah, let me tell you now what I want for us!" she began ardently. "The great dream, Dodo?" he said, smiling. "Yes, a dream, but a dream that will come true!" She hesitated, and standing before him, her eyes lighted up by the penetration of a woman, a glance that left him confused, she said directly: "You think you understand me? You don't; but I understand you! You are afraid of me! You love me, but you try not to, because you are afraid of me!" "How?" he asked lamely. "Because you think that I want to interfere in your life. Oh, yes, you do! I remember the look in your face when I was romancing about Sassoon, making him divorce--you remember, when you asked if that was what I intended to do with you?" "I was joking!" "Not entirely! There's been a good deal of such thoughts back of your eyes. You are afraid I'll take it into my little head to be Mrs. Massingale. Don't deny it, Your Honor; I know! That's where you are totally wrong. I hate marriage; I could not stand it a month!" she said curtly. And she continued dramatically, stretching out her hand: "I swear to you now that, whatever happens, I will never be your wife! I've told you I would take nothing from you; I mean it!" He watched her, erect and impassioned, weakly conscious of the dominion she had established over every craving and every impulse.