“Why, for living, and travelling expenses,” she answered, with what dignity she could muster.

“Thought you had some money,” he grumbled in evident distaste.

“Come in here a moment,” Rachael said in a voice that rather to his surprise he obeyed.  “Sit down there,” she went on, and Clarence, staring at her a little stupidly, duly seated himself.  His wife twisted about in her desk chair so that she could rest an arm upon the back of it, and faced him seriously across that arm.

“Clarence,” said she, conscious of a certain dryness in her mouth, and a sick quivering and weakness through-out her whole body, “I want to end this.”

“What?” asked Clarence, puzzled and dull, as she paused.

“I want to be free,” Rachael said, stumbling awkwardly over the phrase that sounded so artificial and dramatic.  They looked at each other, Clarence’s bewildered look slowly changing to one of comprehension under his wife’s significant expression.  There was a silence.

“Well?” Clarence said, ending it with an indifferent shrug.

“Our marriage has been a farce for years—­almost from the beginning,” Rachael asserted eagerly.  “You know it, and I know it--everyone does.  You’re not happy, and I’m wretched.  I’m sick of excuses, and pretending, and prevaricating.  There isn’t a thing in the world we feel alike about; our life has become an absolute sham.  It isn’t as if I could have any real influence over you—­you go your way, and do as you please, and I take the consequences.  I realize now that every word I say jars on you.  Why, sometimes when you come into a room and find me there I can tell by the expression on your face that you’re angry just at that!  I’ve too much self-respect, I’ve too much pride, to go on this way.  You know how I hate divorce—­no woman in the world hates it more—­but tell me, honestly, what do we gain by keeping up a life like this?  I used to be happy and confident and full of energy a few years ago; now I’m bored all the time.  What’s the use, what’s the use—­ that’s the way I feel about everything—­”

“You’re not any more tired of it than I am!” Clarence interrupted sullenly.

“Then why keep it up?” she asked urgently.  “You’ve Billy, and your clubs, and your car, to fill your time.  There’ll be a fuss, of course, and I hate that, but we’ll both be away.  We’ve given it a fair trial, but we simply aren’t meant for each other.  Good heavens! it isn’t as if we were the first man and woman who—­”

“Don’t talk as if I were opposing you,” Clarence said with a weary frown.

Rachael, snubbed, instantly fell silent.

“I’ve got my side in all this dissatisfied business, too,” the man presently said with unsteady dignity.  “You never cared a damn for me, or what became of me!  I’ve had you ding-donging your troubles at me day and night; it never occurs to you what I’m up against.”  He looked at his watch.  “You want some money?” he asked.