“I have left my husband.  He has been unfaithful to me.”

In Mrs. Earle, conventional feminine instincts were apt, before she had time to think, to get the upper hand of her set theories.  “You, poor, poor child,” she cried extending her arms.

Selma had not intended to weep.  Still the opportunity was convenient, and her nerves were on edge.  She found herself sobbing with her head on Mrs. Earle’s, bosom, and telling her sad story.

“He was never good enough for you.  I have always said so,” Mrs. Earle murmured stroking her hair.

“I ought to have known from the first that it was impossible for us to be happy.  Why did I ever marry him?  He said he loved me, and I let myself be badgered into it,” Selma answered through her tears.  “Well, it’s all over now,” she added, sitting up and drying her eyes.  “He has given me back my liberty.  I am a free woman.”

“Yes, dear, if you are perfectly sure of yourself, there is only one course to pursue.  Only you should consider the matter solemnly.  Perhaps in a few days, after he has apologized and shown proper contrition, you might feel willing to give him another chance.”

Selma was unprepared for Mrs. Earle’s sentimentality.  “Surely,” she exclaimed with tragic earnestness, “you wouldn’t have me live with him after what occurred?  Contrition?  He said everything he could think of to get me to stay, but I made my decision then and there.”

Mrs. Earle put her own handkerchief to her eyes.  “Women have forgiven such things; but I respect you all the more for not being weak.  I know how you feel.  It is hard to do, but if I had it to do over again, I would act just the same—­just the same.  It’s a serious responsibility to encourage any one to desert a home, but under the circumstances I would not live with him another minute, my child—­not another minute.”  Thereupon Mrs. Earle protruded her bosom to celebrate the triumph of justice in her own mental processes over conventional and maudlin scruples.  “You will apply for a divorce, I suppose?”

“I have not considered that.  All I care for is never to see him again.”

“Oh yes, you must get a divorce.  It is much better, you know.  In my case I couldn’t, for he did nothing public.  A divorce settles matters, and puts you back where you were before.  You might wish some day to marry again.”

“I have had enough of marriage.”

“It isn’t any harm to be a free woman—­free in the eye of the law as well as of conscience.  I know an excellent lawyer—­a Mr. Lyons, a sympathetic and able man.  Besides your husband is bound to support you.  You must get alimony.”

“I wouldn’t touch a dollar of his money,” Selma answered with scorn.  “I intend to support myself.  I shall write—­work.”

“Of course you will, dear; and it will be a boon and a blessing to me to have you in our ranks—­one of the new army of self-supporting, self-respecting women.  I suppose you are right.  I have never had a sixpence.  But your husband deserves to be punished.  Perhaps it is punishment enough to lose you.”