he shelf. You couldn't do that with a
wife! Admit, dear friend, that I or any other woman would have made you
utterly wretched."

"I will admit that of any woman other than you."

They rose as by mutual impulse and strolled about the garden for several
moments in silence, the thoughts of each centered upon the past.

"See this wild honey." Hamlen touched the curiously formed leaf. "It
took me months to make it twine about that tree."

"How long would it have taken to make a baby's fingers twine about your
heart?" Marian asked meaningly.

A twinge of pain shot across his face. "Have you--children?" he asked.

"Forgive me, Philip," she answered contritely. "Yes," in answer to his
question; "a daughter, whom you shall meet at the hotel, and a big,
strapping son. He's a senior at Harvard now, and his name is--Philip."

Hamlen suddenly seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Your
husband won't begrudge me that," he said, with a quaver in his voice.

"Thank God!" Marian cried unexpectedly. "It is a relief to find even a
small defect in that intellectual armor of yours! Philip, you are a
humbug, and you deceive no one but yourself! It is not solitude which
you love, it is not friendship which you despise; it is simply that you
have made a virtue out of a condition which exists because you don't
know how to change it. Let me help you now."

"How can the leopard change his spots?" he demanded incredulously.

"Go back with us when we sail for New York week after next. Leave things
here just as they are, and keep this wonderful spot as a retreat when
life becomes too strenuous. Harry and I will return here with you if you
wish us to, and will introduce so many serpents into your Garden of Eden
that you'll relegate us to the cliff while you take refuge in your
library. But between now and that time go back with us into that life
which is your life. Place yourself where you can feel the competition of
what goes on about you. Try pushing against the current, and learn the
joy of contact with something which opposes. Study the people around
you, and make friends--it's not too late, with your splendid personality
and with me to show you how. Come and get acquainted with your namesake.
Help him to learn from you what you can teach him better than any one I
know, and learn from him what his youthfulness can teach you. Will you
do it, Philip? Will you let this wonderful work you've done here be the
means and not the end? Wi