Tremaine.
That seemed to kill the romance, such as it was. I need not go into
the sordid details, but we quarrelled finally about money--my
money. My husband took to gambling in stocks. But I have managed to
keep my little pittance, fortunately. Well, that is enough of my
affairs. Have you any children, Constance?
Mrs. Denham.
One little girl, just nine. Have you any?
Mrs. Tremaine.
No--none.
Miss Macfarlane.
A woman who has had such unpleasant experiences ought to hate and
despise men. But of course _you_ don't?
Mrs. Tremaine.
(_laughing_) No--I don't think I hate men exactly. I despise some
men heartily.
Miss Macfarlane.
They're gey ill to live wi', eh?
Mrs. Tremaine.
I don't think marriage suits me, somehow. I suppose it suits some
people. But I think it often tends to reduce them to a dead level of
commonplace. The artificial bond makes people too sure of each
other. It does not do to take love too much for granted, I think.
(_Re-enter Denham._)
Mrs. Denham.
Well, Arthur, have you got rid of Mr. Fitzgerald?
Denham.
Yes--I'm so glad to have made your acquaintance, Mrs.
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