"
Selma flushed. To be accused of acting contrary to Christian precepts
was painful and surprising to her. "Mr. Glynn," she said, "I see you
don't understand. My husband and I ought never to have married. It has
all been a dreadful mistake. We have not the same tastes and interests.
I am sorry for him, but I can never consent to return to him. To do so
would condemn us both to a life of unhappiness. We were not intended for
husband and wife, and it is best--yes, more Christian--for us to
separate. We American women do not feel justified in letting a mistake
ruin our lives when there is a chance to escape."
Mr. Glynn regarded her in silence for a moment. He was accustomed to
convince, and he had not succeeded, which to a clergyman is more
annoying than to most men. Still what she said made his plea seem
doubtful wisdom.
"Then you do not love your husband?" he said.
"No," said Selma quietly, "I do not love him. It is best to be frank
with one's self--with you, in such a matter, isn't it? So you see that
what you ask is out of the question."
Mr. Glynn rose. Clearly his mission had failed, and there was nothing
more to be said. Being a just man, he hesitated to pass an unkind
judgment on this bright-faced, pensive woman.
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