Are you very angry with me for having guessed?
I have, you know." Wingate paused in the act of lighting a cigarette.
"What's that ?" "I think I have a sort of second sight in such matters, especially as regards people in whom I am interested," Sarah continued, "and if there is one woman in the world whom I really adore, and for whom I am heartily sorry, it is Josephine Dredlinton." "She has a rotten time," was Wingate's terse comment.
"Very few people know how rotten," Sarah went on.

"She has lost nearly all her own relations in the war, her husband has spent the greater part of her fortune, flaunted his affairs with various actresses in the face of all London, shilly-shallied through the war as a recruiting officer, or on any odd job that kept him safely at home, and now he openly associates with a little company of men in the City who are out to make money any old way they can get hold of it." "Lord Dredlinton is a bad lot," Wingate acquiesced.
"And Josephine is an angel," Sarah declared warmly.

"If I were a man--" "Well, you're not," he interrupted.
"If I were a man," she went on, laying her hand upon his, "I wouldn't let Josephine live out these best days of her life in sorrow.

I wouldn't have her insulted and peered at, every hour of her life.

I wouldn't see her living in torture, when all the time she has such a wonderful capacity for life and love.