oint of view.

When he went out to smoke Mrs. Mortimer led Saxon into talking about
herself and Billy, and betrayed not the slightest shock when she learned
of his prizefighting and scab-slugging proclivities.

"He's a splendid young man, and good," she assured Saxon. "His face
shows that. And, best of all, he loves you and is proud of you. You
can't imagine how I have enjoyed watching the way he looks at you,
especially when you are talking. He respects your judgment. Why, he
must, for here he is with you on this pilgrimage which is wholly your
idea." Mrs. Mortimer sighed. "You are very fortunate, dear child, very
fortunate. And you don't yet know what a man's brain is. Wait till he is
quite fired with enthusiasm for your project. You will be astounded by
the way he takes hold. You will have to exert yourself to keep up with
him. In the meantime, you must lead. Remember, he is city bred. It will
be a struggle to wean him from the only life he's known."

"Oh, but he's disgusted with the city, too--" Saxon began.

"But not as you are. Love is not the whole of man, as it is of woman.
The city hurt you more than it hurt him. It was you who lost the dear
little babe. His interest, his connection, was no more than casual and
incidental compared with the depth and vividness of yours."

Mrs. Mortimer turned her head to Billy, who was just entering.

"Have you got the hang of what was bothering you?" she asked.

"Pretty close to it," he answered, taking the indicated big Morris
chair. "It's this--"

"One moment," Mrs. Mortimer checked him. "That is a beautiful, big,
strong chair, and so are you, at any rate big and strong, and your
little wife is very weary--no, no; sit down, it's your strength she
needs. Yes, I insist. Open your arms."

And to him she led Saxon, and into his arms placed her. "Now, sir--and
you look delicious, the pair of you--register your objections to my way
of earning a living."

"It ain't your way," Billy repudiated quickly. "Your way's all right.
It's great. What I'm trying to get at is that your way don't fit us.
We couldn't make a go of it your way. Why you had pull--well-to-do
acquaintances, people that knew you'd been a librarian an' your husband
a professor. An' you had...." Here he floundered a moment, seeking
definiteness for the idea he still vaguely grasped. "Well, you had a way
we couldn't have. You were educated, an'... an'--I don't know, I guess
you knew society ways an' business wa