spurs them. Women take lovers. Men forget their wives. And kindly people, too, who generally appear so calm and so orderly! Everywhere we hear of households broken up. It's the same between parents and children. My mother . . ."
She stopped, then ran on:
"My mother lives her own life."
She stopped again:
"Oh, it's perfectly natural! She is still young, and poor mama has not had much happiness; she has not poured out her sum of affection. She has a right to want to make her life over again."
"She wants to marry again?"
Luce shook her head. One could hardly know very well. . . . Pierre dared not insist.
"She loves me well, still. But it's not the way it used to be. She is able to do without me at present. . . . Poor mama! She would be so sorry if she knew that her love for me is no longer in her heart as the first of all! She would never confess that,