“But it is a tangle in which one still sees right and wrong, Warren,” she said, desperately struggling for calm.  “Human relationships can’t be discussed as if they were the moves on a chess-board.  I make no claim for myself—­the time has gone by when I could do so—­but there is honor and decency in the world, there is simple uprightness!  Your attentions, as a married man, can only do Magsie harm, and your daring”—­suddenly she began restlessly to pace the floor as he had done—­“your daring in coming here to me, to tell me that any other woman has a claim on you,” she said, beginning to breathe violently, “only shows me how blind, how drugged you are with—­I don’t know what to call it—­with your own utter lawlessness!  What right has Margaret Clay compared to my right?  Are my claims, and my sons’ claims, to be swept aside because a little idle girl of Magsie’s age chooses to flirt with my husband?  What is marriage, anyway—­what is parenthood?  Are you mad, Warren, that you can come here to our home and talk of ’tangles’—­and rights?  Do you think I am going to argue it with you, going to belittle my own position by admitting, for one second, that it is open to question?”

She flashed him one blazing look, then resumed her walking and her angry rush of words.

“Why, if some four-year-old child came in here and began to contend for Derry’s place,” Rachael asked passionately, “how long would we seriously consider his right?  If I must dispute the title of Magsie Clay this year, why not of Jennie Jones next year, of Polly Smith the year after that?  If—­”

“Now you are talking recklessly,” Warren Gregory said quietly, “and you have entirely lost sight of the point at issue.  Nobody is attempting a controversy with you.”

The cool, analytical voice robbed Rachael of all her fire.  She sat down, and was silent.

“What you say is quite true,” pursued Warren, “and of course, if a woman chooses to stand on her rights—­if it becomes a question of legal obligation—­”

“Warren!  When was our marriage that?”

“I don’t say it was that!  I am protesting because you talk of rights and titles.  I only say that if the problem has come down to a mere question of what is legal, why, that in itself is a confession of failure!”

“Failure!” she echoed with white lips.

“I am not speaking of ourselves, I tell you!” he said, annoyed.  “But can any sane person in these days deny that when a man and woman no longer pull together in double harness, our world accepts an honorable change?”

Rachael was silent.  These had been her words eight years ago.

“They may have reasons for not making that change,” Warren went on logically; “they may prefer to go on, as thousands of people do, to present a perfectly smooth exterior to the world.  But don’t be so unfair as to assume that what hundreds of good and reputable men and women are doing every day is essentially wrong!”