don't want to, change.

"It wouldn't be any better if I smoked more cigarettes or drank more
gin, that would be silly." Lee was startled by the similarity of her
words to his unformed thought. "No one likes fun better than I do, but
the fun now is so different," her voice had the sound of a wail, "it's
nothing but legs and getting kissed by anybody but your husband. I
don't want other men to kiss me, Lee, only you. And I want you to be
glad about that, to care for it more than anything else. You do, don't
you?"

Again she hesitated, and again he assured her, in a species of
annoyance, of his feeling.

"It's because I adore you," Fanny insisted; "it may be awfully foolish
and ark-like to say, but you're all I want, absolutely." Her manner
grew indignant. "Some women at tea today laughed at me. They did
nothing but describe how they held their husbands' affections; actually
that, as though it were difficult, necessary; the details were
sickening, and reminded me of that old joke about leaving off your
wedding ring. It was all too horrid! And, underneath, they were bitter
and vindictive, yes--they were uneasy, afraid of something, of
somebody, and treated every good-looking woman as a dangerous enemy. I
couldn't live like that, I'd rather die: I told them they didn't trust
the men they were married to."

"What did they say to that?" Lee asked, standing in the door.

"Agreed with me. Alice Lucian said I was damned well right she didn't
trust hers. She loved him, too, but she didn't propose to take any