Page:My Dear Cornelia (1924).pdf/271

 "Oh—that? That is a minor matter."

"Minor? How minor?" I exclaimed in some bewilderment.

"Why, compared with other experiences. I wasn't thinking about Oliver just now. It's a horrid thing to say; but I'm not interested in Oliver just now. We've always been separated—in a sense. And just now, I feel as if he didn't belong to me, nor I to him; as if he were someone that I had known once, and didn't know any more."

"How did it happen, Cornelia?—I don't mean what the children told me. But the rest of it—if you—if you want me to know."

"Yes," she said, "I do want you to know, because—well, I want you to understand. You know that I was not in love with Oliver when I married him. I liked him very much. I do now, in a way. But I married him because he offered me the life that I wanted, then, and that my father and mother thought suitable. And I gave him, at least for a long time, what he wanted—mainly—of a wife: a woman who would look well in public with him, and entertain his friends, and be the mother of his children. When the children were little, we were closer together, for a few years,