“Yes.  Do you want me to invite him to dinner?” and seeing that she did not reply I continued:  “In spite of my explanation I suppose you think, because Krebs defended the man Galligan, that a monstrous injustice has been done.”

“That is unworthy of you,” she said, bending over her stitch.

I began to pace the room again, as was my habit when overwrought.

“Well, I was going to tell you about this affair if you had not forestalled me by mentioning it yourself.  It isn’t pleasant to be vilified by rascals who make capital out of vilification, and a man has a right to expect some sympathy from his wife.”

“Did I ever deny you that, Hugh?” she asked.  “Only you don’t ever seem to need it, to want it.”

“And there are things,” I pursued, “things in a man’s province that a woman ought to accept from her husband, things which in the very nature of the case she can know nothing about.”

“But a woman must think for herself,” she declared.  “She shouldn’t become a mere automaton,—­and these questions involve so much!  People are discussing them, the magazines and periodicals are beginning to take them up.”

I stared at her, somewhat appalled by this point of view.  There had, indeed, been signs of its development before now, but I had not heeded them.  And for the first time I beheld Maude in a new light.

“Oh, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” she continued, “I’m open to conviction, but I must be convinced.  Your explanation of this Galligan case seems a sensible one, although it’s depressing.  But life is hard and depressing sometimes I’ve come to realize that.  I want to think over what you’ve said, I want to talk over it some more.  Why won’t you tell me more of what you are doing?  If you only would confide in me—­as you have now!  I can’t help seeing that we are growing farther and farther apart, that business, your career, is taking all of you and leaving me nothing.”  She faltered, and went on again.  “It’s difficult to tell you this—­you never give me the chance.  And it’s not for my sake alone, but for yours, too.  You are growing more and more self-centred, surrounding yourself with a hard shell.  You don’t realize it, but Tom notices it, Perry notices it, it hurts them, it’s that they complain of.  Hugh!” she cried appealingly, sensing my resentment, forestalling the words of defence ready on my lips.  “I know that you are busy, that many men depend on you, it isn’t that I’m not proud of you and your success, but you don’t understand what a woman craves,—­she doesn’t want only to be a good housekeeper, a good mother, but she wants to share a little, at any rate, in the life of her husband, in his troubles as well as in his successes.  She wants to be of some little use, of some little help to him.”

My feelings were reduced to a medley.

“But you are a help to me—­a great help,” I protested.

She shook her head.  “I wish I were,” she said.