Charles Beadle

“ A woman-may know a man as a man can never know a woman. Jean’s husband was, at heart, really a good man, It had been a strong vein of sincerity and worship of the good and beautiful in both natures which had brought them together in the first instance, and cemented a decade of perfect love. That fact was her chief, if not her only, hope of retaining him. She knew that he must suffer agony at the thought of hurting her. Although a good woman, Jean knew and faced the facts of life. She knew exactly what manner of fascination women of Yvonne's type excercise over men. ”

“ The timbre of her voice had grown harder in the effort of control. “I am thinking about the children and you, your career, whether you love this woman, whether you will be happy.”
“But, Jean—I—why should you think of me? I don’t deserve it from you!”
“That is love. Don’t you know that?” Her voice choked, but she succeeded in turning the sob into the resemblance of a laugh. After a silence she stole a swift glance at him through dim eyes. He was staring fixedly at the carpet, brows creased, perplexed, This time she nearly laughed in hysterical delight, but she hardened her voice again. ”

“ At last, unable to muffle the pangs of uneasiness, Jean sought to identify her rival among the many women of their acquaintance. Being intelligent, Jean strove to see with the man’s eyes, and knew that Yvonne Dankin was sensuously beautiful, young, lithe, with large, yearning eyes. ”

“ At twenty-one she had met and married a man who had, for many short years of happiness, measured up to her ideal, as far as it is possible for any human to do. He had been a struggling attorney—together they had been, in the true meaning—for ten years, while he forged ahead on the road to success. ”