But in the modern world, in which the internet has become a vehicle for all manner of impropriety, she regards this kind of behaviour as perfectly acceptable.We have encountered one another via an internet dating service established for the sole purpose of enabling married people to commit adultery.
It may sound like an unpleasant niche website for a handful of amoral people to whom wedding vows never meant very much.
But it claims to have more than 100,000 members in the UK.
Your picture can be viewed only if you give a password to the person with whom you are conversing.
The idea is presumably to safeguard people from searching for their own spouses on the site - though how a husband would explain to his errant wife how he came to stumble across her picture on a website for adulterers, I don't know.
What I don't know is how her husband will feel about it. Aside from the little matter of her marital status, she also believes I have a wife, but she doesn't care.
She wants instant gratification even though we've exchanged only a few words online.But if I'm going to find out what really makes these women tick, I need to leave the safety of the virtual world and see them for myself. I arrange to meet a 41-year-old mother of two who misses "romance and flirting", in a cafe in two days' time.She has declined to tell me her name, so I have to think of her as her web sobriquet.I reply, telling her to come over and ask me face to face. She looks furtively around and asks me if I'm nervous. There is tension in the air like North and South Korea coming together to hammer out a treaty.Suddenly the realisation of how odd it is to meet a stranger with the express intention of having an affair dawns on me. It's more like Alan Sugar interviewing an apprentice.Postings such as: "I want a man who can look after me and knows how to treat a woman. I'm surprised and unsettled by the forward tone of some of the material. Determined to avoid the connotations, I reply: "The Beatles." I never hear from her again.