itted to his social circle until he has presented you to his
wife or sisters, and has invited you to his home. Every woman knows
that, and I supposed every man did."

"My ignorance is perhaps the best evidence of how crude I really am,"
Cosden said soberly.

"Don't say crude," Edith protested considerately; "say rather that your
social life has been undeveloped. Until this new desire for a home came
to you the necessity of considering that side had not appealed, and when
you once decided to make the grand plunge the only way you knew how to
go at it was as if you were selecting a partner in your business.
Perhaps, as you say, the same rules ought to apply, but I assure you
they don't. And that is just where you stand now."

"Then I will learn the rules which do apply," he asserted with
determination. "But why, if this is so all-important, have you yourself
so little use for society?"

"It is a very different matter, my friend, to make light of something
which you have and something which you lack. I may despise society, but
if it was society that despised me you'd see me starting a campaign in
New York that would make a football game look like a funeral
procession."

Cosden regarded his animated companion for some moments in silence, but
any one who knew him would have recognized that his mind had seized upon
the germ of a new idea which pleased him, but which he was considering
critically for the moment.

"Look here," he said suddenly. "It doesn't take me long to make up my
mind. Why couldn't I persuade you to start a campaign like that for
me--for us--in Boston?"

The abruptness of the suggestion, and the complete change from the
subdued and humiliated seeker after light back to the dominating man of
affairs who forces the solution of his dilemma, took even the astute
Edith by surprise.

"Am I by any chance to consider that as an offer of marriage?" she
demanded.

"That is just what I mean. What do you say?"

"Well, of all things!" She rose to her feet and walked up and down the
piazza with Cosden following close behind. It was a moment or two before
she recovered herself, and then she turned on him.

"I take back all the sympathy I ever gave you," she cried indignantly,
"and I hate myself for having tried to help you with my advice."

Cosden regarded her outbreak with consternation. "I always supposed an
offer of marriage was the greatest compliment a man could pay a woman,"
he exclaimed surprised.