erybody else's."

Lydia burned with impatience at the appearance of this argument, beyond
which she had never been able to induce her mother or Marietta to
advance a step. She cried out passionately: "What if it is! If it's not
the right kind of life, what difference does it make if everybody's life
_is_ like it!"

The idea which her excitement instantly suggested to Paul was
reassuring. Before Ariadne came, he remembered, Lydia had had queer
spells of nervous tension. He patted her on the shoulder and spoke in
the tone used to soothe a nervous horse. "There, Lydia! There, dear!
Don't get so wrought up! Remember you're not yourself. You do too much
thinking. Come, now, just curl up here and put your head on my--"

Lydia feared greatly the relaxing influence of his caressing touch. If
once he put forth his personal magnetism, it would be so hard to go on.
She drew away gently. "_Can_ anybody do too much thinking, Paul? The
trouble must be that I'm not thinking right. And, oh, I want to, so!
_Please_ help me! Everybody says you have such a wonderful head for
organization and for science--if I were a dynamo that wasn't working,
you could set me right!"

Paul laughed, and made another attempt to divert her. "I couldn't if
the dynamo looked as pretty and kissable as you do!" He was paying very
little attention to what she said. He was only uncomfortable and uneasy
to see her so white and trembling. He wished he had proposed taking her
out for the evening. She had been having too dull a time. He ought to
see that she got more amusement. They said that comic opera now running
in town was very funny.

"Paul, listen to me!" she was crying desperately as these thoughts went
through his head. "Listen to me, and look honestly at the way we've been
living since we were married, and you _must_ see that something's all
wrong. I never see you--never, never, do you realize that? except when
you're in a raging hurry in the morning or tired to death at night, and
when I'm just as tired as you are, so all we can do is to go to bed so
we can get up in the morning and begin it all over again. Or else we
tire ourselves out one degree more by entertaining people we don't
really like--or rather people about whose real selves we don't know
enough to know whether we like them or not--we have them because they're
influential, or because everybody else entertains them, or because they
can help us to get on--or can be smoothed over so they won'