“By George, I wouldn’t have gone away. I’d have gone right into that house, and I would have made things hum. I’d have thrown the other fellow out, lock, stock, and barrel.”

“That’s just like a man, so selfish, only thinking of himself. You don’t know the meaning of love⁠—great, true, unselfish love.”

“I know the meaning of what’s mine. Think I’d give up the woman I loved to another man?”

“Even if she loved the other man best?”

“I’d have my girl first, and find out how she felt about the other man afterwards.”

“Oh, but think if you gave her up, how noble it would be. You would have sacrificed all that you held the dearest to an ideal. Oh, if I were in Enoch Arden’s place, and my husband thought I was dead, and I knew he was happy with another woman, it would just be a joy to deny myself, sacrifice myself to spare him unhappiness. That would be my idea of love. Then I’d go into a convent.”