I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. "Now, lead me to a hotel where I can get breakfast. . “One would think I had said nothing about the matter. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. Nothing anyone could say or do would change him. That is my real milieu, and one that I am convinced you would not only adorn but delight in. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover.
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