THE SACRED FOUNT
"Or of her having deformed and idiotised herself," my friend subjoined.
Oh, how it sharpened my look! "No, no—she wouldn't need that."
"The great point is that he wouldn't!" Mrs. Briss laughed.
I kept it up. "She would do perfectly."
Mrs. Briss was not behind. "My dear man, she has got to do!"
This was brisker still, but I held my way. "Almost anyone would do."
It seemed for a little, between humour and sadness, to strike her. "Almost anyone would. Still," she less pensively declared, "we want the right one."
"Surely; the right one"—I could only echo it. "But how," I then proceeded, "has it happily been confirmed to you?"
It pulled her up a trifle. "'Confirmed'———?"
"That he's her lover."
My eyes had been meeting hers without, as it were, hers quite meeting mine. But at this there had to be intercourse. "By my husband."
It pulled me up a trifle. "Brissenden knows?"
She hesitated; then, as if at my tone, gave a laugh. "Don't you suppose I've told him?"
I really couldn't but admire her. "Ah—so you have talked!"
It didn't confound her. "One's husband isn't
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