handyman, took over the car
and drove it into the garage, while Cutter strode up the wide steps to
the door.

Niels took his hat, and Mary was waiting for him in the library.

She was a rather large woman, although not fat, and when she wore high
heels--which she was not prone to do, because although Cutter would not
have cared, she kept trying to project into other people's minds and
trying, as she said, "Not to do anything to them, that I wouldn't want
them to do to me."--she rose a good inch above Cutter. She was pleasant
humored, and cooperative, and the one great irritant about her that
annoyed Cutter, was the fact that she was not capable of meeting life
wholeheartedly and with strength.

She steadily worried about other people's feelings and thoughts, so that
Cutter wondered if she were capable of the slightest personal
conviction. Yet that weakness was an advantage at the same time, to him,
because she worked constantly toward making him happy. The house was run
to his minutest liking, and the servants liked her, so that while she
did not use a strong enough hand, they somehow got things done for her,
and Cutter had no real complaint. Someday, he knew, he would be able to
develop her into the full potential he knew she was capable of
achieving, and then there wouldn't be even that one annoyance about her.

He sat down in the large, worn, leather chair, and she handed him a
Scotch and water, and kissed his cheek, and then sat down opposite him
in a smaller striped-satin chair.

"Did you have a nice day, dear?" she asked.

She was always pleasant and she always smiled at him, and she was
indeed a handsome woman. They had been married but five years, and she
was almost fifteen years younger than he, but they had a solid
understanding. She respected his work, and she was careful with the
money he allowed her, and she never forgot the Scotch and water. "The
day was all right," he said.

"My goodness," she said, "you worked late. Do you want dinner right
away?"

"I had some sandwiches at the office," he said, drinking slowly.

"That isn't enough," she said reproachfully, and he enjoyed her concern
over him. "You'd better have some nice roast beef that Andre did just
perfectly. And there's some wonderful dressing that I made myself, for
just a small salad."

He smiled finally. "All right," he said. "All right."

She got up and kissed him again, and he relaxed in the large chair,
sipping contentedly at his