"
"Sometimes I think you are very stupid."
He began firmly: "See here, Mrs. Cortlandt, you have been mighty
good to me, and I'm indebted to you and your husband for a whole
lot. I am terribly fond of you both."
She clipped a crimson bloom from its stem with a vicious blow of
her crop, then, with eyes fixed upon the fallen flower, broke the
awkward pause that followed.
"I suppose," she said, half defiantly, "you know how things are
with Stephen and me--everybody must know, I suppose. I have done a
lot of thinking lately, and I have made up my mind that the last
appeal of what is right or wrong lies with one's self. I'm not
going to care any longer what the world thinks of my actions so
long as my own heart justifies them. Happiness--that is what I
want, and I will have it--I will have it at any cost. It is my
right. Because a woman marries without love, is it right for her
to forego love all her life? I think not."
She looked up, and with a change of tone ran on swiftly: "I have
studied you for a long time, Kirk. I know the sort of man you are.
I know you better than you know yourself. Very lately I have begun
to study myself, too, and I know, at last, the sort of woman I
am." She drew near and laid a hand on each shoulder, forcing him
to look straight into her eyes.
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