“This marriage,” she flung out impatiently. Facing Dr. Verdile she took the gold band inscribed M-A that she had worn continuously from the time Alberto had put it on her finger and she said, “I’m not going to wear this anymore. I’ll only put it on again if I find freedom really does lie in this marriage. But if my way is out of marriage, don’t obstruct me.”

Dr. Verdile smiled easily as he tamped down his pipe. “I’m not a policeman,” he said, “or a judge.”

At home Marguerite threw the gold band into a box of old school charms, wrote out her declaration for Alberto, and put it in his studio. The house was empty. At his return he came to her with the paper in hand.

“You swore to maintain this marriage,” he said. “You are breaking your word and you can do so, if you like, but it is part of my faith. I believe in the holy sacrament of marriage, of our marriage.”

“Alberto, you can’t force life and people into your beliefs.”

“Very well, I accept your feelings—on the condition that you won’t let pride keep you from coming back.” His voice faltered. “This marriage is not ending for me. I will always be your husband. And this is your home. . . . Remember,” he said as he turned away and his voice broke, “I love you.”

It was true that he loved her. Not just on principle; he loved her enough to let her go. Though she rejected his solidity and his imperturbable view of the world, it was the only permanence of affection she had ever known. Sweet indeed to have a place of peace and permanence. Comforting to know exactly one’s place in the world. But it was no longer time to stay protected in Alberto’s shadow; it was time to move on.

Marguerite got a lawyer and started the separation action. She confided in her friend Angela Cambio—Angela, whose own husband had left her and who, by toughness and wit, had overcome all obstacles to become a noted journalist.

“You’re mad, absolutely mad!” Angela exploded, her eyes cold with fury. “Why don’t you just take a lover? How can you leave a good man like Alberto—how can you take away his children? You’re a fool! You don’t know what it is for a woman to be alone.”

“I’d rather be alone than in a marriage I don’t believe in, or that I make dishonest by having a lover.”