"

I must have betrayed the fact that I was a little startled, for the
remark came as a confirmation of what I had dimly felt.

"Of course she has," I agreed, somewhat lamely. "Every woman has, who is
worth her salt."

Nancy's smile bespoke a knowledge that seemed to transcend my own.

"You do like her?" I demanded.

"I like her very much indeed," said Nancy, a little gravely.
"She's simple, she's real, she has that which so few of us possess
nowadays--character. But--I've got to be prepared for the possibility
that she may not get along with me."

"Why not?" I demanded.

"There you are again, with your old unwillingness to analyze a situation
and face it. For heaven's sake, now that you have married her, study
her. Don't take her for granted. Can't you see that she doesn't care for
the things that amuse me, that make my life?"

"Of course, if you insist on making yourself out a hardened,
sophisticated woman--" I protested. But she shook her head.

"Her roots are deeper,--she is in touch, though she may not realize it,
with the fundamentals. She is one of those women who are race-makers."

Though somewhat perturbed, I was struck by the phrase. And I lost sight
of Nancy's generosity. She looked me full in the face.

"I wonder whether you can rise to her," she said. "If I were you, I
should try. You will be happier--far happier than if you attempt to use
her for your own ends, as a contributor to your comfort and an auxiliary
to your career. I was afraid--I confess it--that you had married an
aspiring, simpering and empty-headed provincial like that Mrs. George
Hutchins' whom I met once, and who would sell her soul to be at my
table. Well, you escaped that, and you may thank God for it. You've got
a chance, think it over.

"A chance!" I repeated, though I gathered something of her meaning.

"Think it over, said Nancy again. And she smiled.

"But--do you want me to bury myself in domesticity?" I demanded, without
grasping the significance of my words.

"You'll find her reasonable, I think. You've got a chance now, Hugh.
Don't spoil it."

She turned to Leonard Dickinson, who sat on her other side....

When we got home I tried to conceal my anxiety as to Maude's impressions
of the evening. I lit a cigarette, and remarked that the dinner had been
a success.

"Do you know what I've been wondering all evening?" Maude asked. "Why
you didn't marry Nancy instead of me."

"Well," I replied, "it just didn't c