think he has a
good deal."

"Mr. St. Leger has all that, Dolly, and money to boot."

"Mother! There is all the difference in the world between the two men."

"St. Leger has the money, though; and that makes more difference than
anything else I know of. Dolly, I _wish_ you would make up your mind. I
think that would bring your father all right."

"Where is father, mother?"

"Gone out."

"But I thought he would stay with you while I was away. Couldn't you
keep him at home, mother? just this one day?"

"I never try to influence your father's motions, Dolly. I never did.
And it would be no use. Men do not bear that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

"Interference. They never do. No man of any spunk does. They are all
alike in that."

"Do you mean that no man will give up any of his pleasure for a woman
that he loves, and that loves him?"

"While men are just in love, Dolly, and before they are married, they
will make fools of themselves; and for a little while after. Then
things fall into their regular train; and their regular train is as I
tell you. Let a man alone, if you want to keep the peace and have a
comfortable time, Dolly. I _never_ interfere with your father. I never
did."

Would it have been better if she had? Dolly queried. _She_ must
interfere with him now, and it was hard. Dolly thought the wife might
have done it easier than the daughter. She did not believe her father
was looking up antiquities; she had not faith in his love of art; he
could be on no good errand, she greatly feared. Christmas Day! and he
would go out and leave his nervous, invalid wife to count her fingers
in solitude; not even waiting till Dolly should be at home again. _Are_
all men like that? Mr. Shubrick, for instance? But what was to be done?
If Mr. Copley had found places and means of dissipation in Rome, then
Rome was a safe abode for him no longer. Where would be a safe abode?
Dolly's heart was bitter in its sorrow for a moment; then she gathered
herself up.

"Mother, do you like Rome?"

"Why should I like it? I think we came away from Venice a great deal
too soon. You would come, Dolly. There is nothing here, for me, but old
tumbledown places; and the meals are not near so good as we had there
in Venice. No, I'm sick and tired of Rome. I'm glad you've had a good
Christmas Day; it's been forlorn to me."

"I won't go again from you, mother. Will you like to make a visit to
the Thayers at their villa?"

"I