And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. But a woman’s life is all chance. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. It shall be the bludgeon.
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