She presently murmured, her voice as though that echo, lost, was murmuring back, “Oh, it is I that am astonished now. The principle! It’s like a ghost. Harry, how possibly can there come between us the principle?” His voice was deep, “Are we afraid of it, old girl?” She put out a hand and touched him and he touched her hand. They were such lovers still. That was the thing about it. There never had been an issue between them, not the smallest; the bloom of their first union never had dissipated, not a rub. But there was in Harry the intention now to take her, and there was in her the apprehension now of being taken, to a new dimension of conversation, not previously trod by them. As they proceeded it was seen not to be light in this place; a place where touch might be lost. She said, “But to bring up the principle in this! It can’t be possible you’ve changed. It isn’t conceivable to me that you have changed. Then how the principle?” “It is the situation that has changed, Rosalie. It never occurred to me; I never dreamt or imagined that a thing like this could arise.” She moved in her chair. “Oh, this goes deep....” He put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re not afraid.” “But I’m so strong in this. So always certain. In our dear years together so utterly assured. Nothing within the principle could touch me. I am steel everywhere upon the principle. I might hurt you, Harry.” “I’ll not be hurt.” “Well, say it, Harry.” He was silent a moment. “There isn’t really very much to say. To me it’s so clear.” She murmured, “And to me.” He said, “We’ve made this home--eleven years. It’s been ideal. You have combined your work with your--what shall I call it?--with your domestic arrangements--your business with your domesticity--You’ve done it wonderfully. We’ve never had to discuss the subject since we agreed upon it.” She murmured, “That is why--agreed.” “Agreed in general. But when you take the home as between a man and a woman, there are bound to be responsibilities which, however much you share, cannot be divided. The woman’s are the--the domesticity.” “What are the man’s?” “To maintain the home.” “I share in that.” “Well, grant you do. I do not claim to share the other.” “You are not asked to, Harry.” “No, but, Rosalie, I’ve the right to ask you to provide the other.” Her murmur said, “Oh, do not let us bring up rights. I am so fixed on rights.” “Rosalie, let’s keep the thing square. A man can leave his home; he often has to. I think not so a woman; not a mother; not as you wish now to leave it. It can’t, without her, go on--not in the same way.” “Yes, ours. Ours can.” “Not in the same way. You can’t take out the woman and leave it the same,--the same for the man, the same for the children. We’re married. The married state. With children. Doesn’t the whole fabric of the married state rest on the domesticity of woman?” She murmured, “No, on her resignation, Harry.”