Do you imagine she was _jealous_ of your compliment to
me? or of your praise of the girl's beauty at the Country Club?
No, no, my dear Mr. Gordon, I know Edna too well to accuse her of such
petty feelings. She was only hurt at your lack of taste in accenting her
own lost bloom by needlessly emphasizing another's possession of what
had once been hers.
Yet she called upon the young lady that very day and invited her to
luncheon, and even then you indulged in pronounced admiration of the
guest's cheeks, gallantly requesting your wife to have the bouquet of
carnation pinks removed from the table, as they were so shamed by the
complexions of the ladies.
Of course it was gracefully worded in the plural, but your pallid wife
could not claim her share of it, and you should have realized the fact.
And the reason she could not was that she had sacrificed her health in
your service, in giving your children to you, and in losing her lover.
She adores her splendid babies, but she is still a woman and a
wife,--though you seem to ignore that she is anything but a mother.
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