"But what else did we come here for, Tilly, except your happiness?"
"That's true," she said, without interest. "You did it for my sake. It was nice of you."
"But it did no good."
"No, it did no good. And it would be better . . ."
"What?"
"For you to go back to Driebergen, Addie."
"I agree," he said, gently.
She started:
"What do you mean?"
"I was thinking the same thing."
"What?"
"That I ought to go back to Driebergen."
She looked at him in surprise:
"And I?" she asked.
"You remain here . . . with the children."
"I don't understand."
"You stay in the Hague . . . you and the children."
"And you?"
"I'll go down there."
"I don't understand," she repeated.
"I mean what I say, Tilly," he said. "It is better . . ."
"What?"
"That we should separate."
"Separate?"
"Perhaps. For a longer or shorter period."
She stared at him:
"Do you want a divorce?"
"I think so."
She continued to stare at him and choked down her tears:
"Addie, do you no longer love me?"
"No," he said, gently.
