w in the sunshine. "It's my belief, however, that at the
crucial moments you have plenty of it of your own."

"That's a safe guess!" said Sylvia ironically, "since there never have
_been_ any crucial moments in a life so uninterestingly eventless as
mine. I wonder what I _would_ do," she mused. "My own conviction is
that--suppose I'd lived in the days of the Reformation--in the days of
Christ--in the early Abolition days--" She had an instant certainty:
"Oh, I have been entirely on the side of whatever was smooth, and
elegant, and had amenity--I'd have hated the righteous side!"

Page did not look very deeply moved by this revelation of depravity.
Indeed, he smiled rather amusedly at her, and changed the subject.
"You said a moment ago that I couldn't understand, because I'd always
had money. Isn't it a bit paradoxical to say that the people who
haven't a thing are the only ones who know anything about it?"

"But you couldn't realize what _losing_ the money meant to us. You
can't know what the absence of money can do to a life."

"I can know," said Page, "what the presence of it cannot do for
a life." His accent implied rather sadly that the omissions were
considerable.

"Oh, of course, of course," Sylvia agreed. "There's any amount it
can't do. After you have it, you must get the other things too."

He brought his eyes down to her from a roving quest among the tops
of the trees. "It seems to me you want a great deal," he said
quizzically.

"Yes, I do," she admitted. "But I don't see that you have any call
to object to my wanting it. You don't have to wish for everything at
once. You have it already."

He received this into one of his thoughtful silences, but presently it
brought him to a standstill. They were within sight of the Grand Canal
again, looking down from the terrace of the Trianon. He leaned against
the marble balustrade and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. His
clear eyes were clouded. He looked profoundly grave. "I am thirty-two
years old," he said, "and never for a moment of that time have I
made any sense out of my position in life. If you call that 'having
everything'--"

It occurred to Sylvia fleetingly that she had never made any sense out
of her position in life either, and had been obliged to do a great
many disagreeable things into the bargain, but she kept this thought
to herself, and looked conspicuously what she genuinely felt, a
sympathetic interest. The note of plain direct si