ou were wise to let him alone, Anna. We
represent a faded tradition. We don't really care what business a man
is in, so it is large enough, and he doesn't advertise offensively; but
we think it fine to affect reluctance."

"Do you really feel so, Bromfield?" asked his wife seriously.

"Certainly I do. There was a long time in my misguided youth when I
supposed myself some sort of porcelain; but it's a relief to be of the
common clay, after all, and to know it. If I get broken, I can be
easily replaced."

"If Tom must go into such a business," said Mrs. Corey, "I'm glad James
approves of it."

"I'm afraid it wouldn't matter to Tom if he didn't; and I don't know
that I should care," said Corey, betraying the fact that he had perhaps
had a good deal of his brother-in-law's judgment in the course of his
life. "You had better consult him in regard to Tom's marrying the
princess."

"There is no necessity at present for that," said Mrs. Corey, with
dignity. After a moment, she asked, "Should you feel quite so easy if
it were a question of that, Bromfield?"

"It would be a little more personal."

"You feel about it as I do. Of course, we have both lived too long,
and seen too much of the world, to suppose we can control such things.
The child is good, I haven't the least doubt, and all those things can
be managed so that they wouldn't disgrace us. But she has had a
certain sort of bringing up. I should prefer Tom to marry a girl with
another sort, and this business venture of his increases the chances
that he won't. That's all."

"''Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but 'twill
serve.'"

"I shouldn't like it."

"Well, it hasn't happened yet."

"Ah, you never can realise anything beforehand."

"Perhaps that has saved me some suffering. But you have at least the
consolation of two anxieties at once. I always find that a great
advantage. You can play one off against the other."

Mrs. Corey drew a long breath as if she did not experience the
suggested consolation; and she arranged to quit, the following
afternoon, the scene of her defeat, which she had not had the courage
to make a battlefield. Her son went down to see her off on the boat,
after spending his first day at his desk in Lapham's office. He was in
a gay humour, and she departed in a reflected gleam of his good
spirits. He told her all about it, as he sat talking with her at the
stern of the boat, lingering till the