bear it no longer, and I broke out -

"'James, I am wretched beyond description!"

"He slowly shut the magazine, tearing a piece of paper from a letter
and putting it in as a mark, and then said -

"'What is the matter?'

"'You must know. You must know that ever since we have been married
you have never cared for one single thing I have done or said; that is
to say, you have never cared for me. It is NOT being married.'

"It was an explosive outburst, sudden and almost incoherent, and I
cried as if my heart would break.

"'What is the meaning of all this? You must be unwell. Will you not
have a glass of wine?'

"I could not regain myself for some minutes, during which he sat
perfectly still, without speaking, and without touching me. His
coldness nerved me again, congealing all my emotion into a set resolve,
and I said -

"'I want no wine. I am not unwell. I do not wish to have a scene. I
will not, by useless words, embitter myself against you, or you against
me. You know you do not love me. I know I do not love you. It is all
a bitter, cursed mistake, and the sooner we say so and rectify it the
better.'