s we had shot clear of the city,
"Maude is going away," I told her.
"Going away?" she repeated, struck more by the tone of my voice than by
what I had said.
"She announced last night that she was going abroad indefinitely."
I had been more than anxious to see how Nancy would take the news. A
flush gradually deepened in her cheeks.
"You mean that she is going to leave you?"
"It looks that way. In fact, she as much as said so."
"Why?" said Nancy.
"Well, she explained it pretty thoroughly. Apparently, it isn't a sudden
decision," I replied, trying to choose my words, to speak composedly as I
repeated the gist of our conversation. Nancy, with her face averted,
listened in silence--a silence that continued some time after I had
ceased to speak.
"She didn't--she didn't mention--?" the sentence remained unfinished.
"No," I said quickly, "she didn't. She must know, of course, but I'm sure
that didn't enter into it."
Nancy's eyes as they returned to me were wet, and in them was an
expression I had never seen before,--of pain, reproach, of questioning.
It frightened me.
"Oh, Hugh, how little you know!" she cried.
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"That is what has brought her to this decision--you and I."
"You mean that--that Maude loves me? That she is jealous?" I don't know
how I managed to say it.
"No woman likes to think that she is a failure," murmured Nancy.
"Well, but she isn't really," I insisted. "She could have made another
man happy--a better man. It was all one of those terrible mistakes our
modern life seems to emphasize so."
"She is a woman," Nancy said, with what seemed a touch of vehemence.
"It's useless to expect you to understand.... Do you remember what I said
to you about her? How I appealed to you when you married to try to
appreciate her?"
"It wasn't that I didn't appreciate her," I interrupted, surprised that
Nancy should have recalled this, "she isn't the woman for me, we aren't
made for each other. It was my mistake, my fault, I admit, but I don't
agree with you at all, that we had anything to do with her decision. It
is just the--the culmination of a long period of incompatibility. She has
come to realize that she has only one life to live, and she seems
happier, more composed, more herself than she has ever been since our
marriage. Of course I don't mean to say it isn't painful for her.... But
I am sure she isn't well, that it isn't because of our seeing one
anoth
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