e he was saying: "Pauline is right, Selma. I had already asked
myself if it would not be fairer to you to move uptown where we should
be in the van and in touch with what is going on. Pauline is gently
hinting to you that you must not humor me as she has done, and let me
eat bread and milk out of a bowl in this old curiosity shop, instead of
following in the wake of fashion. She has spoiled me and now she deserts
me at the critical moment of my life. Selma, you shall have the most
charming modern house in New York within my means. It must be love in a
cottage, but the cottage shall have the latest improvements--hot and
cold water, tiles, hygienic plumbing and dados."

"Bravo!" said Pauline. "He says I have spoiled him, Selma. Perhaps I
have. It will be your turn now. You will fail to convert him as I have
failed, and the world will be the better for it. There are too few men
who think noble thoughts and practice them, who are true to themselves
and the light which is in them through thick and thin. But you see, he
admits himself that he needs to mix with the world a little more.
Otherwise he is perfect. You know that perhaps, already, Selma. But I
wish to tell it to you before him. Take care of him, dear, won't you?"

"It was because I felt that his thoughts were nobler than most men's
that I wished to marry him," Selma replied, seraphically. "But I can see
that it is sensible to live where your friends live. I shall try not to
spoil him, Pauline." She was already conscious of a mission which
appealed to her. She had been content until now in the ardor of her love
to regard Wilbur as flawless--as in some respects superior to herself;
but it was a gratification to her to detect this failing, and to
perceive her opportunity for usefulness. Surely it was important for her
husband to be progressive and not merely a dreamer.

Littleton looked from one to the other fondly. "Not many men are blessed
with the love of two such women," he said. "I put myself in your hands.
I bow my neck to the yoke."

In New York in the early seventies the fashionable quarter lay between
Eighth and Fortieth Streets, bounded on either side by Fourth and Sixth
Avenues. Central Park was completed, but the region west of it was, from
the social stand-point, still a wilderness, and Fifth Avenue in the
neighborhood of Twenty-third Street was the centre of elegant social
life. Selma took her first view of this brilliant street on the
following day on