She struggled for self-control, and I saw her hands clench and
unclench spasmodically. It was dreadfully painful.

"Of course I'll go over to Paris if you think I can do any good,
but you must tell me exactly what you want me to do."

"I want him to come back."

"I understood from Colonel MacAndrew that you'd made up your
mind to divorce him."

"I'll never divorce him," she answered with a sudden violence.
"Tell him that from me. He'll never be able to marry that woman.
I'm as obstinate as he is, and I'll never divorce him.
I have to think of my children."

I think she added this to explain her attitude to me, but I
thought it was due to a very natural jealousy rather than to
maternal solicitude.

"Are you in love with him still?"

"I don't know. I want him to come back. If he'll do that
we'll let bygones be bygones. After all, we've been married
for seventeen years. I'm a broadminded woman. I wouldn't
have minded what he did as long as I knew nothing about it.
He must know that his infatuation won't last. If he'll come
back now everything can be smoothed over, and no one will know
anything about it."