But she cut me short, going on inexorably:—­“I am merely your housekeeper, and rather a poor one at that, from your point of view.  You ignore me.  I am not blaming you for it—­you are made that way.  It’s true that you have always supported me in luxury,—­that might have been enough for another woman.  It isn’t enough for me—­I, too, have a life to live, a soul to be responsible for.  It’s not for my sake so much as for the children’s that I don’t want it to be crushed.”

“Crushed!” I repeated.

“Yes.  You are stifling it.  I say again that I’m not blaming you, Hugh.  You are made differently from me.  All you care for, really, is your career.  You may think that you care, at times, for—­other things, but it isn’t so.”

I took, involuntarily, a deep breath.  Would she mention Nancy?  Was it in reality Nancy who had brought about this crisis?  And did Maude suspect the closeness of that relationship?

Suddenly I found myself begging her not to go; the more astonishing since, if at any time during the past winter this solution had presented itself to me as a possibility, I should eagerly have welcomed it!  But should I ever have had the courage to propose a separation?  I even wished to delude myself now into believing that what she suggested was in reality not a separation.  I preferred to think of it as a trip....  A vision of freedom thrilled me, and yet I was wracked and torn.  I had an idea that she was suffering, that the ordeal was a terrible one for her; and at that moment there crowded into my mind, melting me, incident after incident of our past.

“It seems to me that we have got along pretty well together, Maude.  I have been negligent—­I’ll admit it.  But I’ll try to do better in the future.  And—­if you’ll wait a month or so, I’ll go to Europe with you, and we’ll have a good time.”

She looked at me sadly,—­pityingly, I thought.

“No, Hugh, I’ve thought it all out.  You really don’t want me.  You only say this because you are sorry for me, because you dislike to have your feelings wrung.  You needn’t be sorry for me, I shall be much happier away from you.”

“Think it over, Maude,” I pleaded.  “I shall miss you and the children.  I haven’t paid much attention to them, either, but I am fond of them, and depend upon them, too.”

She shook her head.

“It’s no use, Hugh.  I tell you I’ve thought it all out.  You don’t care for the children, you were never meant to have any.”

“Aren’t you rather severe in your judgments?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered.  “I’m willing to admit my faults, that I am a failure so far as you are concerned.  Your ideas of life and mine are far apart.”

“I suppose,” I exclaimed bitterly, “that you are referring to my professional practices.”

A note of weariness crept into her voice.  I might have known that she was near the end of her strength.