are you going to do?”
“You see, Margaret, now it's come to be your affair—I want to know what you—what you want.”
“You want to leave me?”
“If you want me to, I must.”
“Leave Parliament—leave all the things you are doing,—all this fine movement of yours?”
“No.” I spoke sullenly. “I don't want to leave anything. I want to stay on. I've told you, because I think we—Isabel and I, I mean—have got to drive through a storm of scandal anyhow. I don't know how far things may go, how much people may feel, and I can't, I can't have you unconscious, unarmed, open to any revelation—”
She made no answer.
“When the thing began—I knew it was stupid but I thought it was a thing that wouldn't change, wouldn't be anything but itself, wouldn't