I cleared my throat. I knew that what I was about to say would annoy her, but nevertheless it was my moral duty as her husband to tell her about the consequences of her actions.
“Miriam,” I said after a pause. “People are not going to understand. They will see you with a much younger man and they may draw the worst sort of inference.”
“Let them! I don’t care.”
“You should care, Miriam. People will not forgive moral lapses. You will not be received.”
“What you mean is that you’re afraid my friendship with Robert is going to cast doubt upon you.”
“Miriam! That’s unfair.”
“It’s true,” she shot back. “All you care about is being a high-class solicitor with a book full of well-heeled clients. You don’t want to help the poor because you’re terrified that your clients wouldn’t like it.”
Miriam had no idea that I took a great interest in helping the poor, because I made nearly all of my bequests anonymously. How could I make her understand? But before I could form a coherent sentence she had slammed the door, and rustled downstairs towards her friend. I stood there, my hands balled into fists, How could she be so cruel? [To be continued next week.]