pair must separate, never to see each other again
voluntarily. But that idea, even as a possibility, had not
entered the mind of either. They had lived a long time;
they were practical people. They knew from the outset
that somehow they must arrange to go on together.
The alternative meant a mere pittance of alimony for
her; meant for him social ostracism and the small
income cut in half; meant for both scandal and confusion.

Said she fretfully: ``Oh, I suppose we'll get along,
somehow. I don't know anything about those things.
I've always been looked after--kept from contact with
the sordid side of life.''

``That house you live in,'' he went on, ``does it
belong to you?''

She gave him a contemptuous glance. ``Of course,''
said she. ``What low people you must have been used
to!''

``I thought perhaps you had rented it for your
bunco game,'' retorted he. ``The furniture, the horses,
the motor--all those things--do they belong to
you?''

``I shall leave the room if you insult me,'' said she.

``Did you include them in the seven thousand dollars?''