"You have changed your opinion, Joan, since last fall, when you couldn't bear to think of my leaving you," he added reproachfully.
"I couldn't bear to think of your joining the mob of lawless and sinful men who use that as an excuse for leaving their wives and families.

As for my own feelings, Edward, I have never allowed them to stand between me and what I believed best for our home and your Christian welfare.
Though I have no cause to admire the influence that I find this man, Demorest, still holds over you, I am willing to acquiesce, as you see, in what he advises for your good.

You can hardly reproach ME, Edward, for worldly or selfish motives." Blandford felt keenly the bitter truth of his wife's speech.

For the moment he would gladly have exchanged it for a more illogical and selfish affection, but he reflected that he had married this religious girl for the security of an affection which he felt was not subject to the temptations of the world--or even its own weakness--as was too often the case with the giddy maidens whom he had known through Demorest's companionship.

It was, therefore, more with a sense of recalling this distinctive quality of his wife than any loyalty to Demorest that he suddenly resolved to confide to her the latter's fatuous folly.
"I know it, dear," he said, apologetically, "and we'll talk it over to-morrow, and it may be possible to arrange it so that you shall go with me.