d sympathies and understandings, but with
a will and a way.

I do not care to tell the story of it,--indeed, I do not know it,--but
the man learned the old-fashioned lesson, which seems to hold good
still, that for a really comfortable wedded life a little love, as a
preliminary, is a good thing always--usually a requisite. The woman
lacked neither perception nor good sense. It was she who proposed,
since they were ill-mated, they should live apart, and he consented,
with only such show of courtesy as might conceal his height of
gladness. There were money features to the arrangement made, and it
was all dignified and thoughtful. The world knew nothing of the
agreement, though that generation of vipers, the relations of Mrs.
Grundy, wondered why Mr. Harlson's wife and he so lived apart, and if
either of them were opium-eaters, or dangerous in insane moods. The
relations of Mrs. Grundy have the reputation of the universe on their
hands, and, the task being one so great, they must be pardoned if they
err occasionally.

From the day he was alone, Grant Harlson appeared himself again, and I
speak knowingly, for I was with him then. His old self seemed then
restored. The buoyancy of boyhood was his as it had never been to me
since we were young together. It matters not what a chance,--this is a
land where all men drift about,--but I was in the city near him now,
and the old relationship was resumed. We rioted in the past of the
country, and we visited it together. As time went on, Harlson seemed
to forget that he was, or ever had been, a married man, and eventually
the woman found other things in life than awaiting old age without
social potency, and suggested, from a distance, that the separation be
completed. Perhaps there was another man. I know that Harlson did not
hesitate. He responded carelessly, and then reverted to things
practical.

The reflection came that the mismated in this present age must
ordinarily bear the burden to the end. Collusion, which in such case
is but a term for a mutual business agreement, is not allowable. The
social problem is a puzzle the solution of which is left to those whose
ideas were given to them stereotyped. The separation was delayed, but
was, vaguely, a thing possible. And Harlson laughed and threw out his
arms, and made friends of many women.

They were the variety of his life, which else was a hard-working one.
He was not a saint nor a deliberate sinner. He bu