sympathetically. "Women are mostly children, the better sort, and you feel
bad, even when they're in trouble through their own foolishness."

"There is no release, no divorce," Mrs. Preston continued. "A thing is
done, and it's done. There's no ending it in this life. You can run away,
or close your eyes, but you don't escape. He has been--my husband."

"That's silly! Now let me tell you what I'll do." The dentist squared
himself and raised the little lignum-vitae mallet, which he used to drive
home his fillings.

"Don't you fool round any more. You can't love that fellow,--think you
never did now,--and he's given you no reason to be very nice to him. You
just drop him where you are, and start out alone and make the best of it.
You can't do that in Chicago now. Get out of Chicago to-morrer. Go east.
Take your maiden name; no one is goin' to be hurt by not knowin' you're
married. I guess you ain't likely to try it again."

He paused for objections, and evidently found one himself.

"If you ain't got the money handy, I'll just fix you up. That gas generator
I was talking to you about is going to make me mints of money. You can go
right away to my sister-in-law in Worcester, Ohio. Guess _he_ won't
trouble you much there. What do you say?"

She had nothing very cogent to say, but the dentist felt an impalpable
obstruction of will, unintelligible and persistent. His enthusiasm grew as
he perfected the details of his plan. It was a new kind of scheme, in which
he took the artistic delight of the incorrigible promoter. His imagination
once enlisted for the plan, he held to it, arguing, counselling, bullying.