"Yes," he sneered, "but not much love." The butler had tactfully withdrawn.
"Why don't you love me, Lucia?"

"I do--in a way. Oh, let's don't go into all that again, Morgan. We've had
it out so many times. What's the use?"

"Is there anyone else?" he asked. "If I thought there was...." He lifted
his glass again.

"You know there isn't," she protested.

He appraised her across the table, beautiful in a blue gown which just
matched her eyes, her throat adorned with a string of pearls he had given
her on the anniversary of their marriage.

"I don't see how a woman as lovely as you can be so cold," he said. "You
could do anything with men."

She tried to smile. "But I don't want to. Women--good women--don't like to
play with fire. It's only adventuresses who dare to face danger.... But
let's talk about Arizona. How good it will be to get out of this hothouse
of the East, and see real people--real flesh-and-blood men and women."

"Yes. The folks down there know more about life in a day than we do in all
our pitiful lives. You've got to live close to nature to understand human
nature. Simple, isn't it?"

"Very. We're all so false up here. I get so tired of it, Morgan. Maybe down
there we'll come to a better understanding of each other. Maybe...."