In his nature, there is
the fatal pliability which finds companionable qualities in bad
friends. In this aspect of his character, he is a dangerous man--and he
may be (forgive me!) a bad husband. It is a thankless task to warn you
to any good purpose. A wife--and a loving wife more than another--feels
the deteriorating influence of a husband who is not worthy of her. His
ways of thinking are apt to become, little by little, her ways of
thinking. She makes allowances for him, which he does not deserve; her
sense of right and wrong becomes confused; and before she is aware of
it herself, she has sunk to his level. Are you angry with me?"
"How can I be angry with you? Perhaps you are right."
"Do you really mean that?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then, for God's sake, reconsider your decision! Let me go to your
father."
"Mere waste of time," Iris answered. "Nothing that you can say will
have the least effect on him."
"At any rate," Mountjoy persisted, "I mean to try."
Had he touched her? She smiled--how bitterly Hugh failed to perceive.
"Shall I tell you what happened to me when I went home to-day?" she
said. "I found my maid waiting in the hall--with everything that
belongs to me, packed up for my departure.
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